


Growing Pains

by orphan_account



Series: Growing Pains [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Loving Thranduil, Mental Instability, Other, Possessive Legolas, Possessive Thranduil, Protective-ness, jealous!Thranduil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-19
Updated: 2016-04-08
Packaged: 2018-05-15 01:56:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 24,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5766952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thranduil's greatest joy and love is his beautiful son, Legolas.</p><p>But as the two grow older, Thranduil finds that with the happiness and affection that comes with raising a child, there also comes heartbreak and anguish.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Maybe One Day, We'll All Wake Up And This Will All Be Just A Dream

**Author's Note:**

> ...I'm baaack!!! (In it for the angst!)
> 
> By the way, in this story, I'm writing a short snippet of Legolas and Thranduil's life together each chapter, like from age 4--18 (?) but I won't cover all of Legolas' years. 
> 
> Meaning, I may skip some years.
> 
> But if you guys have any suggestions for a short part of this story, tell me and I'll see if I can fit it in!
> 
> Enjoy!

A piercing screech filled the night air.

Sighing, Thranduil rolled over, wishing he could lose himself in the sweet, cool night air flowing in from the window and fall back asleep, but he couldn't.

Legolas was calling.

He sat up, rubbing his bleary eyes. For once since Kate left him, he was able to find sleep easily. And Legolas had to pick that night to wake up screeching.

Sighing, he rose from his bed (his warm, comfy bed), and passed over to Legolas' small bed. He grimaced slightly at the sight of the red-faced, crying infant. Not because of the state of his little Prince, but because of the close resemblance the child had of his mother.

But it didn't matter, he told himself.

Legolas was not her; Legolas wouldn't leave him.

Picking up the child and laying him against his uncovered chest, he rocked Legolas, whispering soothing things to him.

"Hush, tithen-las...sweet baby, don't cry," he hushed, walking over to his bed and sitting upon it.

He sighed as Legolas continued screeching.

"Las-nín, cease your crying, Ada's here," he pressed a kiss to his forehead. 

Somehow, his lips' gentle touches calmed the Elfling. He sniffled, wrapping his father's neck in his short arms tightly.

"Ada," he babbled tearfully.

"Ada's here, my little leaf," Thranduil soothed, stroking Legolas' back and laying against the pillows with a sigh. 

Legolas trembled. "I...Momma..."

Thranduil swallowed. "She's not here right now, my love."

The babe burst into tears, and Thranduil's heart broke. 

No child should be denied their mother.

"It's alright, iôn-nín," he comforted. "Ada's here."

"Want Momma..."

"Maybe some other day, alright?" Thranduil sighed. "Now come, baby, kiss Ada and sleep. I'm very tired."

Legolas pulled his small, bottom lip between his teeth and looked away, the large tears rolling down his round cheeks making Thranduil want to laugh at the cuteness or cry hysterically because of the obvious angst his baby was in.

"Baby, if you sleep, we'll have grilled cheese in the morning," Thranduil bargained, knowing very well of his son's love for that type of sandwich.

Like magic, Legolas's bright eyes widened, and he turned to Thranduil with a suspicious look. "For bweakfas?"

He nodded. "Come on, 'Las-nin. Kiss me."

The three year old sniffled and swiped his hand across his face. He tilted his head up, silently expecting Thranduil to lower his. With a smile, he did so, and let the child press a small, wet kiss on the tip of his nose. 

"Now, time to sleep, sweetheart," he yawned, pulling the coverlet over them. 

Legolas nodded with a hiccup, nuzzling Thranduil's strong chest for a moment. "Night, Ada. Wuv you."

Thranduil swore his heart burst with love and affection at that very moment. "I love you too, baby. Goodnight."


	2. One Year Can Make A Big Difference

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil wishes his son could let him go..but the next year finds him wishing Legolas would hold on tighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Sorry about the title. My brain is dead today.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoy this slightly angsty piece of fiction!

(4 years.....)

"How many eggs, honey?" 

Thranduil sighed when silence met his question. He glanced quickly from the frying eggs to look at his sullen child.

Legolas sat at the table, his back to his father. Although he couldn't see his face, Thranduil knew well of the anger and melancholy contorting the four year-old's features.

Quietly, Thranduil plated two fried eggs onto the small, red plate and set it before his child before taking a seat beside him.

He sighed again as Legolas turned his burning glare from his lap to the food.

"Baby," Thranduil murmured. "You need to eat. I told you, Momma's gonna pick you up soon to spend a week with you."

Legolas shook his head resolutely.

"Tithen-las," he said warningly as he stood and moved to kneel behind Legolas. Thranduil gently took his son's golden hair into his hands and began plaiting it. "Just one week, love. One week."

Legolas didn't say anything. He didn't have to; hate was rolling off of him in waves.

"Come now," Thranduil said with a teasing smile. "I don't think her company is 'that' unbearable."

Legolas harrumphed, crossing his arms.

"She lets you watch movies, doesn't she?"

After a pregnant pause, the boy nodded reluctantly. 

"And she lets you eat all the ice-cream you want, doesn't she?"

Another slow nod.

And Thranduil would've told him to stop moving his head (he was trying to style his hair, for pete's sake!), but he already knew that Legolas was not in the best of moods.

"And she lets you take long bubble baths, right?"

Nod.

"And--"

"But she doesn't watch the movies with me," Legolas interrupted sharply, his voice raspy. "And she might let me eat all the ice-cream, but I always get a tummy ache after."

Thranduil stopped his ministrations to Legolas' hair. In fact, he let the braid fall down half-done, and he slowly moved to kneel beside Legolas. Studying the child, he found the former was staring ahead blankly, quivering with fury and sadness. 

"She might let me take baths, but she never bathes with me like you do."

The four year-old finally turned to him with tears in his large, blue eyes. 

"She never holds me, or hugs me, or cuddles me like you do, Ada. And Brad is always there, annoying me and messing my hair."

Legolas picked up the fork and poked the eggs with it disinterestedly. 

"And when he's not there," he continued, popping one of the yolks sadly, "she's always on the phone with him or texting him."

He turned to look at his father.

"And I know you have to be writing on the laptop or on the iPad a lot to make money being a--" he paused, searching for a word, "a person who writes books. But at least you turn away from it whenever I talk to you or ask you for something. Whenever I ask Momma, she just waves me away or glares at me."

Thranduil's heart clenched, and he suddenly felt a searing hate burn in his chest.

Who on earth could deny his little angel anything?

Legolas' sniffle pulled him out of his thoughts. "Ada," he whispered, voice wavering as he threw himself into Thranduil's arms. "Ada, I don't wanna go."

The older man gulped and held the young boy tightly as the latter cried a mantra of "Don't let her take me."

"Baby, don't," he soothed, kissing his temple briefly. "You're making my heart hurt immensely."

"I don't wanna be away from you," Legolas sobbed. "Ada, I don't--"

And just like karma, the bell rang at that moment. 

"Don't!" Legolas shrieked when Thranduil stood, carrying the small boy, to open the door. 

"Hush, my little leaf," Thranduil whispered into the child's ear, rubbing his back soothingly to help loosen his vice grip on his clothes. "I'll try to see if she can come back later."

Legolas whimpered as Thranduil carried him to the door. 

Sighing, Thranduil quickly hid his emotions behind a cold and detached mask before opening the door.

His anger nearly cracked when he found Kate standing at the door, staring at her hot pink, overgrown nails.

"Hey, Thran."

"Don't call me that," Thranduil almost couldn't resist the urge to roll his eyes at the blonde, lithe woman.

"Whatever," she smacked her lips before looking at Legolas, whose face was hidden in his father's neck. "What's wrong with him?"

"He doesn't want to go with you," he stated bluntly.

"Aww," she crooned, stepping closer to Thranduil to look at the four-year old, and if he wasn't the gentleman he was, he would've stepped back to keep some distance between them. "Come on, hon."

"No," Legolas' protest was muffled in Thranduil's shirt. "I wanna stay with Ada."

"We can have ice cream--"

"Can you come back later?" Thranduil interrupted, glaring at her.

"No, Brad's coming over later. And I'm here now."

Thranduil glowered at her, but Kate was having none of it.

"Come on; get his things. I still have to make a grocery run."

Thranduil pushed her out and slammed the door, yelling out, "Five minutes" when she screeched to open it again.

He tried to ignore the way Legolas sobbed as he went to gather his small traveling luggage.

"Come on, my little leaf," Thranduil encouraged the young boy, stroking the back of his hand to wipe the tears from his smooth, creamy cheek. "It'll only be a week."

"Too long," protested Legolas, trying in vain to stop his sad, little hiccups.

"You've survived it before, 'Las-nin," Thranduil sighed more to himself than his son, drawing the young boy in his arms once more. 

"Can I please just stay?"

"I wish, baby."

Legolas sighed, and once again (like always) resigned to his fate.

Thranduil stroked his golden hair for a moment, reveling in the intimate moment with his only child. 

He groaned when he heard an impatient knock on the door and a high-pitched, "I'm waiting!"

"Come on, tithen-las," Thranduil picked both the luggage and the child up, opening the door. He stormed past a surprised Kate down the steps, wishing he could just push her down them.

Quietly, he put Legolas' bag in the trunk, and slowly lowered Legolas into his booster seat in the back, wishing to cling onto his son for as long as he could.

It seemed as if Legolas felt the same way, for it took an age to make the child release his iron-grip on his father.

Once Legolas was safely strapped in, Thranduil cupped his face and peppered kisses all over it, making the child giggle for the first time that day.

"Bye, baby," Thranduil whispered, a familiar pang of pain in his chest.

Legolas stared for a second. "Bye-bye Ada."

Thranduil began to stand up, but Legolas grabbed his shirt and tugged him closer.

He was about to ask what the matter was before Legolas' soft, small, baby lips were suddenly against his.

He barely registered his ex's noise of disgust.

Thranduil, honestly, didn't know what to do. He felt that if he should kiss him back, it would be inappropriate, especially considering how small he was. But he didn't want to make Legolas feel rejected either, so he brought a hand up to 'Las' cheek, smiling when Legolas reciprocated his actions.

After a short while, Legolas pulled away.

"Love you."

"Love you too, sweetheart," Thranduil returned, smiling at the child before standing up. "Call me if you need anything, okay?"

Legolas nodded, a familiar frown settling on his face as his father slowly closed the door.

That was always the hardest part; being separated from his baby was like having his heart ripped in two.

"You guys done making out?" Kate asked, half-joking. Thranduil wanted to snap, tell her that since she didn't believe in showing physical affection to her child, it all fell on him, but he didn't.

"You better take care of my son," Thranduil said darkly, narrowing his eyes.

"Our son," she noted, walking over to the driver's side.

"If you fail to meet his needs, not for much longer."

Thranduil felt a dark sense of happiness when she looked up from her phone and glared.

"What does that mean?"

"It means you better make sure he's happy, my dear," Thranduil spat, crossing his arms.

"Alright, alright," she rolled her eyes before getting into the car.

Thranduil sighed as he watched the car drive away, his chest empty and hollow.

Indeed, one week was too long.

••••••••••

(5 years....)

Thranduil's hands shook as he buttoned his dark, navy button-up.

Today was Legolas' first day of school.

And he was pretty certain he was more nervous than the boy.

"Ada!!! We're gonna be late!" the five year-old boy yelled from the hallway.

"Calm down, 'Las," Thranduil said loudly, rolling his eyes as he fixed his collar. "It's not for another half-hour."

"Oh come on Ada!" Legolas laughed, running into the room and grabbing his wrist in his small hands. Thranduil wondered where on earth the shy boy who couldn't bear to be separated from his father went. "I've eaten and brushed my teeth and changed!"

Thranduil looked the young boy's outfit up and down. He smiled. The private school's dark blue and red blazer fit the child well.

"Well, you look very handsome, tithen-las," Thranduil stated proudly, kneeling in front of his son to straighten his outfit out.

"Thanks," Legolas blushed, looking at his polished, black shoes with a smile. When he looked back up, he studied his father's outfit and profile, eyes going wider than his wrists. "Ada....?"

"Yeah, sweetie?"

"You're so..." Thranduil looked up at the abrupt stop. In the child's blue eyes was something he never saw before: an emotion he couldn't read. 

"Iôn-nín?" the parent prompted, laying a hand on the child's cheek.

A pregnant pause hung in the air. Legolas' mouth was open, as if he wanted to say something but couldn't, and Thranduil's emotions were running through his head.

"Iôn-nín?" Thranduil repeated with a little more force, swallowing his worry and fear.

Finally, Legolas looked as if he snapped back to reality.

"Umm," he said slowly, averting his eyes from his father's questioning gaze. "Nothing, Ada."

"Tell me," Thranduil ordered, running a hand through Legolas' golden tresses. 

"Nothing," the child so blatantly lied, and Thranduil sighed, knowing that no matter how long he would spend questioning the child, he wouldn't get the answer out of him. He forced a tight smile on his face and stood, picking up his son in his arms. 

"Come, my love. Or we'll be late."

•••••••••

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be trying to make the chapters longer or at least this long.
> 
> *cracks knuckles*
> 
> See you next week!
> 
> And...umm..comments and kudos? *runs to hide*


	3. Broken Wine Bottles and Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Legolas gets possessive over his Ada.
> 
> And proceeds to (accidentally) step into a broken wine bottle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Umm...
> 
> I don't know--what?
> 
> A bit random. But this fiction is about randomness, am I right?

(8 years....)

Thranduil sat on a green bench, soaking up the golden rays of the sun. While he kept some of his attention on the words, he devoted most of it to his child, who was running out-and-about around the playground.

Suddenly, a tiny voice was heard. 

"Ada!"

Thranduil barely had time to simply turn his head before Legolas was suddenly between his legs, clutching onto him tightly.

"Ada, she's gonna come to get you!" Legolas cried, voice fraught with worry.

"Who, tithen-las?" Thranduil asked, placing his novel on the empty space beside him and gently laying a large hand on his son's golden head.

Legolas spun, pointing and crying out dramatically: "That lady!"

Thranduil looked at the young, brunette woman (with too much hair-dye and too much makeup) who was staring intently at him from the other side of the playground, turning and giggling to her group of friends.

He rolled his eyes before picking his son up and sitting him on his lap. "Why do you think that, 'Las?"

"She asked me if you were my daddy and said you were oh-so hot!"

"Talk about inappropriate," he mumbled before clearing his throat and resting a reassuring hand on the child's shoulder. "Well, let me tell you something."

He shifted Legolas in his lap to face a nearby tree and pointed at the tiny nest. "See that, my love?"

Legolas stared for a while before his eyes lit up at the realization. "They're baby birds in there!"

Thranduil laughed, and Legolas smiled at the smooth, deep sound. "You're right, iôn-nín! And who takes care of the birds?"

"Mommy-bird?"

"Mhmm," he agreed, turning his relatively small child to face him again. "And since she's the parent, she can't ever, ever leave them."

Legolas nodded.

"And since I'm your--" Thranduil tapped Legolas' chest to stress the word, making the boy giggle, --"Ada, I can't ever, ever leave you too. Understand?"

"Yes, Ada," he sighed happily, leaning toward and pressing himself into Thranduil's strong chest. Winding his arms around his father's waist, he whispered, "You're mine, Ada."

"Bit possessive now, are we?" Thranduil chuckled, dropping a kiss onto his head.

"Don't know what that means, but I'll pretend it means handsome, so thank you."

Thranduil burst out laughing.

••••••••••

(10 years....)

Legolas' scream filled the air.

Thranduil cursed, dropping the roll of paper towel and bolting from the laundry room to the kitchen.

He cursed when he took in the sight of his child standing in front of the fridge, letting out wails of pain.

One small glance at the book laying beside him in the shards of green glass and red alcohol told Thranduil everything.

"Legolas!" he barked reprimandingly, although his heart clenched in fear.

The ten year-old sobbed, and the older rushed forward, uncaring for the possibility of getting parts of the broken bottle into his feet as well. He nimbly swooped up his son into his arms, relieved that Legolas was still small compared to his much larger, broader frame. 

"Ada," he cried tearily, wrapping his arms tightly around Thranduil's neck and burying his face in his broad shoulder. "There's glass in my feet! It h-hurts!"

"Senseless child," Thranduil said, but there was no heat in his words as he ran to the door.

He grabbed the keys and his thick, black coat off of the nearby table, his swiftness fueled by his son's distressed cries, and ran out of the door, hastily locking it.

"Hush, my love. Don't cry," Thranduil's deep voice soothed in the same way he did a years ago, stroking his angel's soft, golden hair as he threw open the silver door of his car, hastily strapping his child in.

"I'm sorry," Legolas half-choked, half-sobbed. "I know you told me not to walk around with my nose in a b-book, but I-I-I--"

"It's alright, 'Las-nin." Thranduil quickly shut the door before all but ripping the driver's side door open. 

"Try not to think of the pain," he pleaded more than commanded before peeling off.

The neon lights of the city melted and blended together outside as Thranduil drove with a fear and urgency he had not felt in forever. His hands gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles became white. The loud sounds and blares of New York were unheard by him; the cries of his child were the only thing filling his air.

He felt as though they could not have arrived at the hospital soon enough.

 

*********

"So....we removed the glass from his feet and stitched the larger cuts up," the Doctor (Mrs...Green?) informed the tall blonde.

"Thank you," he nodded, sighing internally in relief. "So...may I take him home?"

"Well, he won't be able to walk for at least a week--"

Thranduil paled. "So?"

"We're sending him with a wheelchair."

********

"I hate this!" Legolas snapped, face scrunched up in frustration. "This dumb chair is so hard to move around!"

"Legolas.." Thranduil said warningly as he chopped carrots.

The ten year old wilted. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, twiddling his thumbs and staring intently at his lap in shame. 

Thranduil sighed, putting his knife down and wiping his hands on a small cloth before walking to his unhappy child. 

He knelt beside the wheelchair, gently putting his fingertips under the boy's chin and tilting his head up to look at him.

He searched Legolas' eyes thoroughly and found himself lost in the cerulean expanse for a moment.

"Ada?" Legolas' voice was soft, unsure.

And a moment was all it took for him to make up his mind. "Come, Legolas," he invited the younger, opening his arms.

Legolas immediately bent over and allowed himself to be enveloped in his father's strong arms. 

He yelped in surprise when he was lifted from the wheelchair.

"Ada--?"

Thranduil walked back to the stove, his son securely in his embrace.

Legolas felt a strange burst of warmth and hurt surge within him when his father began resuming dinner.

"Oh Ada," he sighed as he realized what his father was doing. He put his forehead against Thranduil's cheek. "I'm sorry I complained; I was only a little upset. You don't have to carry me around--"

"You're still small compared to me, my love," Thranduil interrupted, before murmuring a command for Legolas to hold on tighter.

"Ada, I don't want to make this harder for you. Put me down please."

"It's really no trouble, baby," Thranduil assured him, dumping the vegetables into the curry. "But if you truly find my company that detestable, I will put you back in the sad excuse for transportation known as the wheelchair."

Legolas sighed, heart throbbing with love. "You're playing dirty, Ada."

"Mm, that's how I roll, sweetheart."

Legolas giggled, lunging and wrapping his arms tightly around Thranduil's neck. "Love you, Ada."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed reading! Thank you!  
> Please don't be afraid to leave comments or kudos or something! I don't bite!


	4. No More Countin' Dollars, We'll Be Counting Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil is faced with a decision that will ultimately change both his and his son's life.
> 
> And...stargazing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise you, more of a plot line is coming.
> 
> Just bear with me through the randomness!

(12 years....)

Saying goodbye had gotten slightly easier over the years. At least Legolas was past the stage of throwing a tantrum whenever his mother took him in for a week every two months.

But to say that saying goodbye was a breeze would be a lie.

A big, fat, ugly lie.

"Bye, Ada," Legolas sighed tearfully for the thirteenth time, making no move to let Thranduil go.

And Thranduil would've been damned if he made the first move to let go of his son. 

"Bye, my little leaf," Thranduil whispered into his golden hair, pressing a final kiss to the boy's forehead. "Promise to call if you need anything?"

"Promise," Legolas said sincerely, slowly unwinding his arms from around Thranduil's neck, but not before placing a chaste kiss to the base of it.

"Come on, honey," Kate ushered her son into the car, fighting back the urge to roll her eyes when Legolas cast his father a longing glance.

She quickly shut the car door before spinning on her 5-inch heel and looking at Thranduil.

"Did I tell you I was moving to Canada?"

Thranduil looked up from the ground, a deep frown on his face. "What?" 

"Yeah.." She handed him some papers. "Might wanna look at these for a second."

Thranduil took them suspiciously. A glance was all it took to drain the color from his face.

"You'll still have joint custody?"

"Yeah," she nodded, tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder as she gazed at her nails for a second. 

"How on earth is that going to work?" Thranduil questioned, running a hand through his hair as he felt exasperation pump through his veins.

"Court leaves us to decide that, and I've come up with two options."

The author braced himself mentally.

"Either you send him to Canada for a week every month--"

"Hell no," Thranduil murmured, pressing a hand against his forehead as he felt a headache coming on.

"--or you can keep him for five years, then send him to me for a larger part of the year, say, the school year. And after that school year, you can have him back."

"Why do you still even want custody of him?" Thranduil asked before he could stop himself, his emotions trying to get hold of him. "It's not like you take care of him--"

"You don't know what it's like!" she shouted, her emotions going from impassive to anger suddenly. 

"Calm down, lady," Thranduil sighed, putting his hands up. "I'll think about it, alright?"

"Do you really need time to think about it?" she rolled her eyes again, walking around the car to arrive at the driver's side. "Sheesh, I knew you weren't bright, but I didn't think you were that dumb--"

"Shut up and leave," Thranduil murmured, burying his face in his hands. "Just leave."

Thranduil went into his penthouse (something new Legolas and he had gotten in the heart of New York [yes, they still also had a house closer to the edge of the city]) after watching the car carrying his happiness and his mirth drive off into the distance. As he opened the cabinets and pulled out the strongest alcohol he could find, he wondered.

Halfway through the bottle of aged, bitter whiskey, he knew his decision.

•••••••

(13 years....)

"Ada, wanna cookie?"

Thranduil sighed dramatically, leaning against the chair and pressing the back of his hand to his forehead. "Baking again, Legolas?"

"Of course, silly!" The teenager laughed, entering his father's study den carrying a plate of baked goods. "Butter cream frosting, Ada!"

"If I didn't know better," Thranduil began, a small smile on his lips, "I'd say you were trying to ruin my physique!"

The child laughed again, setting the plate before Thranduil on his desk beside his laptop. He bent over, pressing himself against the chair's back, and wrapped his arms loosely around the author's neck.

"Working again?"

Thranduil winced at the disapproving note in Legolas' voice but tried to shake it off. "Yes, I am, my love. What of it?"

The child sighed.

And the author winced again. He knew much of the last month had been dedicated to finishing his latest novel (he wanted, no, needed to get the damn book done), and he barely had any time to spend with Legolas. 

"I'm sorry, darling," he sighed, pulling his hands away from the keyboard and wrapping Legolas' small, thin wrists. "You know I'm just trying--" 

"To finish your book so you can spend the rest of the summer with me, I know," he sighed, standing and straightening out. "But lately, you haven't so much as spoken to me--"

"I asked if you did your summer reading at dinner--"

"And proceeded to type away on your laptop with even giving me a few seconds to reply!" Legolas exclaimed, making violent hand gestures.

Thranduil frowned.

Legolas pouted.

"Fine," Thranduil turned to his laptop and quickly saved the document before slamming it shut. He stood up quickly and Legolas stepped back, bewildered at his father's sudden actions.

"Come on, my little brat," Thranduil lifted the short boy into his arms and carried him outside of the study bridal-style, the latter squeaking. 

"Ada--"

"You wanted to do something," he interrupted, summoning all of his strength to hide his smile. He slipped his shoes on and picked up Legolas', dropping the pair onto his chest.

"Ada, where on earth are we going?" Legolas inquired in a high-pitch tone as Thranduil opened the door and stepped outside, his precious child in his arms still. "It's 10 in the evening--"

"You wanted to do something," Thranduil repeated, locking the door swiftly before marching to his convertible Infinity. He opened the door, and quickly dumped Legolas unceremoniously into the back seat.

"Buckle up," he ordered as he entered the driving side.

••••••••••

"Where on earth are we? We've been driving for two hours--"

Thranduil rolled his eyes. "It sounds like you've never been out of New York before."

Legolas looked outside and squinted, attempting to adjust his eyes to the dark. To his surprise, he saw trees. But not the kind of trees in the parks or lining the sidewalks, no. Real, tall, thick-trunked, natural ones.

"I didn't even know there was still some untouched nature in these areas," Legolas admitted bashfully, pressing his hand against the window as he gazed at the tall trees.

Thranduil stopped the car, deciding that the place was as good as any other, and got out of the silver transportation.

Legolas followed him out of the car, only to be swooped into Thranduil's strong arms once more.

"Ada!" he gasped, cheeks burning as his father chuckled and laid him on top of the car. Thranduil laid beside him, entwining their hands.

Although Legolas was embarrassed by being carried around like he weighed nothing and although the close proximity of Thranduil made him flush, he chased after the feeling happily.

Legolas finally looked up and gasped.

Thousands of stars, normally covered by the clouds and smog of the city, were scattered across the skies, shining and twinkling proudly.

"Ada...." he murmured softly, unable to tear his gaze away from the shining orbs.

Thranduil smiled, watching his son's face light up in wonderment and surprise.

Indeed, it had been too long since they both saw the stars.

All of the normal city sounds, the cars honking, people yelling or running about wildly, all of the city lights...

Gone.

And it made such a difference. Legolas could hear the crickets chirping, the warm, summer breeze rustling through the leaves of the trees before gently caressing their skin.

"Ada..." He sighed, a warm feeling of contentment rising in his chest. He finally looked at Thranduil, who had been silently watching him. "It's so beautiful."

"I know," Thranduil nodded, smiling.

Legolas quickly moved closer to Thranduil and laid his head on his shoulder, looking back up to the atmosphere.

As Legolas studied the sky, Thranduil gently combed his fingers through his long, golden tresses.

"Ada..."

"Yes, 'Las-nín?"

Legolas turned and lifted himself on his elbows, looking down at his father.

The starlight reflected off of Thranduil's ivory skin and his silver-golden hair, making him glow ethereally. 

Legolas smiled.

"Remember when I was 5? And I was getting ready for school?"

Thranduil nodded, a curious look on his face. Legolas grinned widely, gently pressing the back of his curled fingers against the author's cheek, stroking the smooth skin there for a moment.

"I...I wanted to tell you something, but I didn't, because I thought it was strange for a son to say this to his father."

Thranduil lifted an eyebrow. 

"But now that I see you, bathed in starlight, looking like an angel that had just fallen out of heaven..."

Legolas stared deeply into Thranduil's eyes, before suddenly pulling his elbows from under him and collapsing onto him. Thranduil grunted, about to ask Legolas what on earth he was speaking about, before the child mumbled:

"You're so beautiful, Ada. Much more than the stars."

There was silence, and then...

"Ada why are you laughing?!?" Legolas asked, cheeks burning in embarrassment as Thranduil laughed, laughed harder than Legolas ever heard.

When Thranduil literally began choking hysterically, Legolas sat up, glaring down at the author.

"Sheesh, if I knew you'd act like this, I wouldn't have said that," he scoffed before slipping off of the car.

He opened the door, about to leave and stew in embarrassment in the car, before Thranduil's hand encased his wrist.

"I'm sorry, baby," he wheezed, wiping the tears of mirth away from his stormy blue eyes. "You're just so adorable."

"You're so mean--"

Thranduil cupped his cheeks, briefly studying the younger's features for a moment. "I'm not beautiful, 'Las," he sighed, a wary smile appearing on his face. 

Tilting his head to the side, Legolas asked, "Huh?"

"I'm not as beautiful as you think me to be."

"Have you gone crazy, Ada?"

Thranduil swore he didn't mean for it to slip, but it did. His only child had that effect on him. "These long years have made their mark on me, have left my mangled and ruined. If only you could see what I truly am--"

"What are you talking about?" Legolas inquired incredulously, covering Thranduil's larger hands with his own. "You're so pretty--what are you going on about?"

Thranduil opened his mouth, but, finally thinking better, closed it and smiled tightly. "Nothing, darling."

"But--"

"It's nothing," Thranduil repeated, before looking up to the sky.

Reluctantly, Legolas did the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! I hope you found it alright! (By the way, I have no idea what the rules for the custody of a child are, but please pretend I'm correct)
> 
> Also, you can expect another chapter in less than a week (I'm almost done writing it :D) and...
> 
> You probably know what I want in return right? *hint(kudos) hint(comments)*


	5. Darlin'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Thranduil gets sick with both jealousy and.. A stomach bug???
> 
> And...  
> You know what, just go read it!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I...uhh..what?? XD  
> I was able to whip out a chapter for Valentine's Day! (This is my gift to you! :)) I hope you enjoy the last normal chapter on this (lol, get ready for some hardcore angst)!

(14 years...)

Thranduil quietly sat at the table, dinner plated before him and growing cold with each passing moment.

His fingertips drummed against the table as he nervously watched the clock tick away.

Legolas should've been home by then.

Thranduil didn't know where his baby was (his teenager, his mind nagged him), and the ever-growing worry was only becoming more and more prominent.

But no, he couldn't lose composure. 

Legolas was alright.

No one would dare hurt his angel.

Would they?

Thranduil glanced at his cellphone, picking it up in his trembling hand. He scrolled down the text messages from Legolas, reading each and every word as his mind raced, wondering if Legolas had mentioned staying out late.

Just when he was ready to stand up and search for his son himself, the door opened, and he heard laughter pour into his house.

"Nah, Kili definitely won that!" A girl's voice (who was it? Tauriel? Thranduil's mind wondered) giggled.

"Oh, don't flatter me, Tauriel!" a husky voice said, the embarrassment nearly apparent in the words. 

"It is kinda true!" Another male chimed in. "You did finish 8 milkshakes."

"I was this close to beating him!" Legolas said loudly, making his group of friends laugh. "If Aragorn had joined us, you definitely would've gotten your butt kicked!"

Thranduil sighed in relief as his child's sweet voice filled his air and his soul once more.

He stood, wiping his sweaty palms on his handkerchief, before silently moving to the other room.

He stood by the threshold to the living room, watching the teenagers quietly.

He barely saw the two, short brothers (what was their names? Fili and Kili, or something) and the ginger being ushered out of the house by his son.

"Bye guys!" Legolas farewelled, pausing slightly when Tauriel smiled at him.

From Thranduil's view, it wasn't completely seen, but a shadow of a blush bloomed on Legolas' fair cheeks as he silently whispered some words too quiet for his father to hear into Tauriel's ear.

She giggled and wrapped him in a hug, planting a brief kiss on his cheek.

Thranduil's fists clenched.

"Bye! Thanks for dinner!" She yelled happily, finally separating herself from Legolas and walking into the night.

"Bye!" Legolas replied in equal volume, his cheeks flushed an unusual amount.

Thranduil quickly retreated back into the kitchen, leaning over one of the counters heavily.

He stared at the creme marble, trying to will his hands to relax.

It seemed impossible, however.

Thranduil's jealous streak had always been strong, and seeing that Legolas basically chose his friends over him wasn't helping him that much.

"Hey Ada!" Legolas called cheerfully, entering the kitchen and opening the fridge to put his leftovers into.

When Thranduil didn't reply, still shaking as he tried to swallow his jealousy and possessiveness, Legolas was immediately (as always) by his side, looking at him curiously. "Ada?"

"Umm..." Thranduil cleared his throat, glancing at Legolas and, finding that he couldn't deal with his son's questioning gaze, looked away immediately. "Hey."

There was a long, awkward pause before Legolas cleared his throat, still trying to catch Thranduil's eyes. 

"Sorry, I forgot to tell you that I was hanging out with some of my friends after school-"

"No, it's fine, it's alright," Thranduil dismissed hastily, saying the words more to himself than to Legolas.

He quickly moved away, unable to bear the close proximity they were standing in (fearing that he would do something rash, like pull Legolas into his arms and question him why on earth he chose his friends' company over his own).

Damn.

He knew parents naturally had protective/possessive feelings over their children, but he didn't think it was 'that' intense.

"Ada, are you okay?" Legolas, sensing his father's disturbed fëa, inquired, taking a step toward the author and deflating when Thranduil kept the distance between them by taking a step back.

"Of course I'm alright," Thranduil reassured shakily, looking down at his hands.

Legolas was silent, but Thranduil felt his heavy gaze on him, knew he was worried.

Perhaps he couldn't deal with his son's absence, not at this time.

Not at a time so distant and, at the same time, so close to--

Thranduil sucked in a sharp breath, his fingernails digging into the delicate skin of his palms.

"Ada, you're bleeding!" 

••••••••

(15 years....)

2 AM on the Saturday following Legolas' 15th birthday found Thranduil leaning over the toilet, clutching onto it as he vomited violently into it.

There was no doubt that he was being extremely loud, retching like no one's business, but he couldn't help it.

Silently, he hoped Legolas wouldn't find him like that, but that hope quickly came crashing down.

Legolas' slender hand gathered his hair in a gentle grip, holding it back, and one hand stroked his back as he threw up his dinner and stomach acid.

After a few minutes of gagging, he fell back onto the white tiles, panting and wiping his sweaty brow.

"Go back to bed, Legolas," he grunted, standing. He stumbled to the sink, his wobbly legs nearly giving out from beneath him before he steadied himself by grabbing onto the counter tightly.

"You're sick," Legolas said, moving to stand beside him. 

"Go sleep," he mumbled, lifting one of his hands and pressing it against his pounding temple. "You don't have to see me like this."

"Ada," Legolas sighed long-sufferingly, putting a hand gently on Thranduil's arm. "How many times have you gotten up in the dead of the night to watch me hurl my guts out?"

At the mention of innards, Thranduil was gagging again, running to the toilet at a lightening-quick pace and leaning over it as he began vomiting again.

Legolas cursed, grabbing Thranduil's hair and patting him on the back, apologizing.

After the bout had ended, Thranduil coughed, taking the glass of water Legolas handed him without question.

"You must've caught the stomach bug I brought home from school a few weeks ago," Legolas sighed, watching his father attempt to rid himself of the acid and bile in his throat. "I'm sorry."

If Thranduil had the voice and throat to assure his son that it was fine, he would've. Instead, a strange, hoarse sound erupted from him.

"Don't talk, Ada." Legolas grabbed him by the arm, helping him up. Quietly, he led them back into Thranduil's bedroom, gently helping Thranduil sit on the bed.

The author, dizzy and extremely cold (how did it get so cold? he wondered silently) fell back against the pillows, shaking and moaning softly.

Every passing minute found Thranduil suffering a little more.

Legolas stripped Thranduil of his shirt (much to his dismay) and pulled the lighter blankets over his father's long body, rubbing his side soothingly.

"I'm cold," Thranduil murmured, confused and slightly agitated as he wondered why, oh why his son took his warm shirt and thick coverlet away from him.

"I know you feel that way, Ada," Legolas smiled warily, slipping into the silk sheets on the left side of his father's large, queen-sized bed. "But you're burning up."

Thranduil covered his eyes with a hand, swallowing to prevent a scream of annoyance from escaping.

"I'm sorry, Ada," Legolas apologized sincerely, moving and pressing his chest against Thranduil's back, wrapping his arms around the author's slim waist. 

"It's alright," Thranduil whispered, suddenly overcome by a wave of tiredness. 

"Sleep, Ada," Legolas whispered, bringing a hand and stroking Thranduil's chest soothingly. "I'll be here in the morning to take care of you." 

•••••••••

(16 years...)

Thranduil had learned to let go over time. With ease, he was able to distance himself away from Legolas' private life, was fine with letting the child deal with his own affairs and relationships.

Or that was, at least, what he told and convinced himself.

He stopped believing his sweet, little lie when he got a call from Mirkwood High School, informing him that his son had been in a fight and that Thranduil had been summoned to the Principal's office.

Thranduil, for the second time in his life, was driving over 90 miles an hour.

And, most probably, was breaking every, single driving law there was out there.

His mind raced, mixed feelings fighting for dominance. Part of him was worried, and another (larger) part of him was angry.

Where had all of his talks informing his son that 'violence was almost never the answer' go?

Once arrived, he shut of the car, taking no moment to calm down, and exited out of the car hastily, slamming the door behind him.

As he walked through the school, the sea of teenagers crowding the halls parted like the Red Sea.

You see, Legolas didn't exactly have a low profile at Mirkwood High. Not only was he one of smartest, most handsome sophomores in the school, he also had a father who was a best-seller novelist in the teen and adult romance department.

So, yes, Legolas was "decently" popular.

Also, Thranduil and Legolas' similarity in appearance didn't exactly help the students look away from the towering, menacing (and beautiful) looking blonde.

Deciding that crashing into the office wasn't exactly the best idea, Thranduil summoned all of his remaining calmness and swallowed his pulsating anger, knocking on the door like a civilized human being.

"Come in."

Thranduil opened the door and strode in, stopping when he saw Legolas.

His darling had a black eye and his face was scraped.

Thranduil growled, marching to stand in front of his son.

Legolas wouldn't meet his eyes, either out of shame or fear.

"What happened?" Thranduil asked. He knew he shouldn't be glaring at the Principal, but he couldn't help it.

"Legolas and another boy, Kili Oakenshield, were caught fighting in the halls," Elrond explained, face calm and stoic.

"Why?"

"Both refuse to say."

Thranduil sighed, running a hand through his long, golden hair. "I apologize for my son's behavior. This is very unlike him."

"It's quite alright, Mr. Oropherion, seeing that this is his first violation of the school rules," Elrond stood from his desk, putting out his hand, which Thranduil firmly shook. "I'll let him off the hook this time; I would advise you, however, to speak to Legolas."

"Of course," Thranduil nodded with a tight smile, grabbing a hold of Legolas' arm in a bruising grip. "Thank you for your time."

Elrond dismissed them with a nod, and the Oropherions were out of the school in a matter of seconds.

"I cannot believe you, Legolas," Thranduil murmured angrily, literally dragging his son across the parkway. "What, for Valar's sake, would make you do something as rash as this?"

Legolas did not answer, simply followed his fuming father.

The drive, to say the least, was silent and awkward. 

At a particularly long stoplight, Thranduil turned to his child, slightly less angry and a little more worried, and was beyond startled to see his son in the state he was in.

Hands clenched in tight fists in his lap, white upper row of teeth deeply sunk into his lip, body shaking and trembling, was Legolas, tears streaming down his cheeks.

Thranduil, lost for words, simply stared, eye twitching.

A car's horn woke him into reality.

Thranduil quickly peeled off. Maybe, he thought, it would be best for them to return to their house at the border of New York, where they had a little more privacy and a little more clean air, rather than to their penthouse in the middle of New York. Thranduil drove speedily, thinking that, perhaps, it was best if he postponed the conversation he knew was coming until they were in the safety of said house.

That was a mistake.

Exactly the moment he stopped in the driveway, Legolas bolted out of the car, leaving the door open.

Thranduil cursed and quickly got out of the Convertible, barely taking time to close both doors before running after Legolas.

If he had been going any faster, he definitely wouldn't have seen the gate to their backyard swinging open out of the corner of his eye.

Thranduil ran into their backyard, looking about frantically for Legolas. The garden was spacious, and vibrantly green, with tall, luscious grass and filled with pastel-colored flowers. In a split second of foolishness, Thranduil wondered if Legolas jumped into the pool, but was immediately reassured that: no, he did not, when he found his angel, laying on his front in the tall grass, sobbing into the dirt.

Thranduil's heart broke as he quietly knelt beside the child, putting a hand on his back.

Legolas' head whipped up at the touch, and he studied Thranduil with angry, stormy eyes, before jerking himself up so quickly that he startled Thranduil into slightly backing away.

He broke into a run, but was quickly halted by his father's hand gripping his ankle before it went out of reach.

Thranduil winced when Legolas' body hit the ground hard, but was fast to pin him against the earth by dropping his own self onto the teenager.

"Get off of me!" Legolas cried, hitting his fists against Thranduil's shoulders and chest with an unexpected amount of strength. "Leave me alone!"

"No, Legolas!" Thranduil grabbed both of Legolas' wrists in his hands with some difficulty and pinned them above the youth's head. "Stop this--"

"Leave me alone!!" the sophomore sobbed, closing his eyes and turning his head sideways, pressing it into the dirt as tears rolled down the sides his face. "Why won't you just leave me alone?!?"

"Legolas!" Thranduil said sharply, passing both of Legolas' wrists into one hand as his other came up to clutch his delicate, defined jaw. "Look at me."

"No!"

Thranduil's grip on his jaw tightened, and he forced Legolas to face him. "Look at me!"

Legolas bit his lip and kept his eyes shut, irking Thranduil to the point of yelling.

"Dammit, Legolas! If you don't look at me, I promise you I'll make you!"

Legolas wiped away his tears on his shoulder hastily before opening his eyes and meeting his father's gaze, swallowing back a sob.

For a moment, they stared at one another, Legolas finding only concern and worry in Thranduil's eyes, and the father only finding pain and angst in his son's.

The hurt he discovered in the crystal, blue eyes reminded him so much of his own pain, experienced when Kate left him.

Only then did he put two and two together.

And when Legolas found that he could hold it in no longer, he let out a small sob, snapping Thranduil back into reality.

"Don't cry," Thranduil said hoarsely, a moment passing before he buried his face in Legolas' shoulder. 

His soul cried and ached at the thought of his child, his sweet, precious darling experiencing something similar to the torment he felt years ago, the torment he still felt at times.

"Ada," Legolas cried, pulling his hands from Thranduil's loosened grip, and clinging onto his clothes tightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So you aren't confused, Kili and Legolas fought because he found out Tauriel was cheating on him with Kili!  
> So...  
> Hope you enjoyed! Please don't be afraid to leave some comments and/or kudos! I don't bite! ❤️  
> By the way, I'm sorry if there are any spelling or grammatical errors! This was kinda long to write >_


	6. I Wish I Could Just Make You Turn Around, Turn Around And See Me Cry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 5 years had passed since Thranduil agreed to send Legolas to his mother for a school year in Canada.
> 
> Now, both Legolas and Thranduil face the consequences of the older's desicions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short update..
> 
> Gotta warn you. 
> 
> It might make you cry.
> 
> And a crazy part of me hopes you do.

(17 years....)

There were a few, simple things Thranduil knew.

Grass was green, birds flew, the sun shone....

And hiding some life-changing news from the person it was ultimately going to effect was a bad idea.

Yes, Thranduil knew this. And yet, despite holding this knowledge, failed to act upon it.

Which was how he found himself, mouth pressed in a tight line, wide eyes darting from an angry, red-faced Legolas to the ticket that was currently being crushed in his child's tight grip.

"'Las--" he began in his most placating tone, taking a step toward his son.

"Don't you freaking dare come near me!" Legolas screamed, taking a few steps back until he was against the wall.

"Please, calm down--"

"Don't tell me to calm down!" Legolas cried, dropping the plane ticket and running both hands through his long, golden hair, grasping the roots and tugging them. 

His eyes flashed. "You can't freakin' hide something like this, and expect me to be okay! You can't-- how on earth can you do this?!?"

In other circumstances, Thranduil would've raised his voice and shut down his son's angry tirade, but he didn't.

Or, at least, tried not to.

"Baby, I'm sorry--"

"Don't call me that!" Legolas screamed, borderline hysterical. "Answer me! How can you not tell me something like this?!?"

If Thranduil had the self-control to stop himself, he would've, but he was already completely fed up.

Why was Legolas acting as if Thranduil actually wanted him to leave?

"Maybe because I foresaw this coming!" Thranduil shouted, momentarily startling the younger. "Maybe I knew that this would happen, and that you would have a complete mental breakdown about it!"

"Maybe if you told me earlier, I would be more prepared for this, and we wouldn't be in this situation!" Legolas yelled in an equal tone, matching up to his father.

"Oh really?" Thranduil snarled, a bitter chuckle leaving him. "You think that you wouldn't have a complete meltdown if you were younger? You think that you wouldn't be screaming at me or crying 5 years ago? Because I know you would be!"

The teenager didn't give him a reply, and instead bolted from the kitchen, sounds of sobs and distress filling the house.

Thranduil stood in the same spot, completely frozen.

He swallowed, ignoring the stinging in his eyes as he dragged himself to the nearest chair and collapsed onto it, burying his face in his hands.

What have I done, he wondered.

••••••

Legolas was destroyed, to say the least.

He laid on his bed, sobbing harder than he ever had in his entire life.

He felt hurt, betrayed even. 

How could his father not tell him something as life-changing as what he had just found it?

Why did he hide it from him for years?

If Legolas hadn't found it laying on the kitchen table that morning, would he have found out at all until the actual day he had to leave?

Legolas clutched his heart, crying out as it bled. He didn't want to leave, and yet, he felt an anger deep inside his chest.

Was Thranduil waiting for the last second to annihilate and mutilate his heart?

••••••

 

It had been two days since Legolas found out that he was being shipped off to Canada.

And neither had talked to one another.

Thranduil wished will all of his heart that it was different, that maybe Legolas would come and forgive him.

But time was ticking, and before he knew it, the day before Legolas' flight had arrived.

Thranduil swallowed, steeling himself. He had been standing outside of Legolas' shut door for the last hour just trying to work up the courage to knock.

He knew he had to.

So he did.

"Legolas," he said shakily, trying and failing to keep his voice steady. "You have to pack; your flight is tomorrow."

There was silence, then shuffling around the room. He winced when he heard a heavy object (most probably his suitcase) hit the floor. Drawers were pulled open, and he heard various articles being thrown.

A selfish part of him wished that his son would refuse to pack his things and open the door and cling onto him, begging him to let him stay.

Now that Legolas was obviously so willing to leave--

Thranduil ran to his room and slammed the door, pressing his back against it and sinking to the floor. He knew he was being childish and stupid, but he couldn't help it.

His eyes stung as he stared at the wide, open window on the other side of the room through tear-filled eyes. He smiled bitterly, watching the sun shine it's bright rays down on the earth, watched people walking, hand in hand, cool drinks and ice creams in the other, enjoying the last days of summer.

The air seemed to reek of happiness.

Happiness.

Thranduil wanted to laugh.

 

•••••

 

The drive to the airport had been awkward and tense. Silence filled the air.

Legolas quietly stared blankly out the window, refusing to look at Thranduil.

It felt like hours before they reached their place of separation, although it was only half an hour.

Thranduil, swallowing, stopped the car, turning slightly in his seat, ready to speak to Legolas, to beg for his forgiveness if he had to, only to see Legolas swiftly exit the car, walking quickly to the back to get his luggage.

Thranduil's heart screamed and he quickly got out of the car, almost sobbing when Legolas simply pulled his luggage out, slammed the trunk, and began walking away.

A soft whisper of his child's name left his lips, the knife in his heart twisting painfully with every step Legolas took.

If he knew that Legolas was simply leaving briskly in hopes that they wouldn't have to go through the agony of farewell, it may have soothed his heart.

Thranduil spun around, burying his face in his forearm as his other wrapped around his waist in a pitiful attempt to hold himself together as he began to fall apart.

Thranduil only saw grey, his entire world losing its color as he realized that Legolas was simply leaving without looking back.

What he didn't see was Legolas pausing just before the doors to the airport, turning and looking at Thranduil with tears rolling down his cheeks.

He didn't see Legolas' lips move as he mouthed a silent farewell to his father, to his whole world.

He didn't see Legolas completely break down in the airport as he waited for his plane, crying for what he was leaving behind:

His most precious treasure.

His soul.

His father.

Legolas' heart screamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *peeks out from under rock*
> 
> Did you like it?!? Please leave kudos and comments; it shows me that people want the story to progress!
> 
> So please please please show your support! ❤️


	7. Is It Too Late To Apologize?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil and Legolas are hurting.
> 
> Kate is plotting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for this shabby update..   
> But here it is!  
> *runs away*

It'd been three weeks, four days, 9 hours, and 17 minutes since Legolas had left.

It'd been even longer since Thranduil had spoken to his son.

And Thranduil felt like he was dying inside.

His last book released a few months earlier had been immensely popular, and brought in a large sum of money. Thranduil was in no hurry to start on a sequel, and thus, he was locked in his penthouse, with nothing to do and nowhere to be.

At that moment, Thranduil was lying on his bed, feeling sick with worry and melancholy.

No matter how many times he tried to call Legolas, the latter wouldn't pick up.

He either didn't want to or refused to.

So, 24 unanswered calls later, Thranduil had given up trying to get into contact with him.

Of course, on the first day, he got a call from Kate, informing him that Legolas had arrived safely and was at her house, getting settled in.

"Are you sure he's alright?" Thranduil had asked for the seventh time within a small window of three minutes.

"Of course he is," the blonde sighed from the other end. 

"Can I speak with him?"

"I'd let you," there was a pause, "if he wasn't shaking his head adamantly from the other side of the room."

And, at that moment, it became clear to the author that Legolas definitely did not want to have anything to do with him at that moment.

But the father had called once every day, twice on others, in hopes that his child would at least say 'hello' to him.

Just one word would satisfy him, would keep him holding on for another day.

Thranduil sighed as his stomach groaned painfully for food, for some water at least.

But no, Thranduil wouldn't let himself indulge in that type of thing.

Not when he had so much guilt on his mind.

He absently wondered if the situation would've been better if he had told Legolas of their inevitable separation earlier. 

Would Legolas have wanted to stay?

Would Thranduil be talking to his darling at that very moment if he had simply told him?

•••••••

Legolas silently stared at the white ceiling as he laid on his bed.

His eyes were dry, his mouth was dry. 

He hadn't had so much as a glass of water for at least 32 hours.

He found that he couldn't drink, or, more accurately, refused to drink. When he had water in his body, it was all used up to cry.

And he was so tired of crying.

The door opened.

Kate poked her head in, a sympathetic frown on her face. "Hon? Wanna talk to Daddy?"

Legolas, using all of his waning willpower, shook his head apologetically, almost feeling bad when she sighed and closed the door.

His mother had, indeed, changed. She was much more attentive to him, and was significantly warmer and kinder to him.

Even her boyfriend, Brad, the short, brown-haired lumberjack of a man, who used to mess his hair and treat him almost something like a dog, was much politer and civil to him.

As awful and selfish as it sounded, Legolas didn't want his mother's love or care as much as he should have.

He didn't know what he wanted anymore.

Part of him cried for his beloved Adar, and another part of him despised the man.

In many of his dreams, Thranduil was present, a sweet smile on his face as the cool, summer breeze danced around him.

He was sitting in the center of a green, lush field, quietly waiting for his son.

With a feeling swirling in Legolas' fëa, scorching him hotter than the sun on a summer day, Legolas approached Thranduil and wordlessly slipped into his open arms. Dream Thranduil always sweetly laid Legolas' head in his lap and stroked his cheek lovingly, staring down at his child with immense love and affection.

Legolas always awoke from those dreams in tears, trembling as he was assaulted by all of the happy, intimate memories created by both him and his father.

He wanted Thranduil.

He wanted the man who lied to him for five years, who tricked him into believing that they could both have a happy ending together before cruelly ripping it away from the both of them.

Legolas hated himself.

••••••

It'd been too long.

Thranduil was sick, not only with worry and withdrawal, but also with a raging fever.

His sick-addled brain was clouded, and he was borderline delirious. He'd spent the greater half of the day crying, partly because his mind was strangely confused for some reason and he was suffering; but mostly because he felt as if he was floating, adrift in the air with no anchor.

No longer was Legolas with him.

No longer did he have a purpose.

Thranduil cried, and, with a few, blinded gropes in the air, found the phone.

•••••••

"Legolas, your dad wants to--"

"No."

"Legolas--"

"Mom, I don't want to," Legolas stressed, though his heart was breaking with every denial. He truly did want to speak with Thranduil, but he couldn't find any words to say.

Not after so long.

"Legolas," his mother approached him, holding the speaker end of the phone tightly in hopes that the man on the other end couldn't hear what was going on. "I think you should, honey."

"I can't, Mom," Legolas said in a pained tone. "I-I can't--"

"He's crying, Legolas."

Legolas' heart dropped. "Huh?"

"He's.." She bit her lip, narrowing her hazel eyes and holding the phone out to him. "He's threatening to fly over here if you don't--"

Legolas quickly grabbed it from her, putting it to his ear, and nodding, half-thankfully, half-dismissing. She left the room, and he sighed.

He opened his mouth, then shut it. A simple 'hello' was on the tip of his tongue, but he felt like he owed Thranduil more than that after going such a long time without speaking to him.

Soon, after not finding anything more appropriate, he whispered out a shakey: "Ada?"

There was a sharp inhale on the other side.

A few seconds of pure, complete, absolute silence.

Then a sob.

"Legolas?"

The teenager nearly cried out at the pain that suddenly assaulted his heart.

"I'm sorry," the wavering, weak voice said from the other side. "I'm so sorry. I tried to give you space, I swear I tried--but I don't--you're--"

Pause.

"I don't know how much longer I can take this," Thranduil sobbed, startling Legolas by suddenly crying out: "I'll die if I go another day without speaking to you! I can't do this anymore!"

"Ada," Legolas whispered, tears already pouring down his face as he tried to keep himself composed. "I'm so, so sorry. I've made such a big mistake--"

Thranduil descended into a bout of sick, incoherent mumblings and sobs, and Legolas' fingers dug into his palms so deeply he began to bleed. 

Never before had he felt so afraid, so disturbed. All of life, Thranduil was this strong, invincible Superman-figure in his life, and now...

His soul felt as if it was being crushed, his heart felt as if it was on fire. 

"Ada, it's okay! I'm sorry--I promise I'll talk to you," Legolas said frantically, scrambling to find something that would soothe his suffering father on the other end. "I'll talk to you every second of every minute of every hour of every day for the rest of my life, I promise, please just stop crying!" 

"You've left me, 'Las! Left me in ruins--"

"Please, no. I didn't want to--!"

"I just want you here," Thranduil whispered brokenly, rocking himself back and forth on the other end, a hand pressed to his pounding, hot forehead. "I just want to be with you--"

"I'll come back, Ada," Legolas promised, wanting nothing more in that moment than to hold his father in his arms tightly. "I promise I'll come back; I love you too much to leave you for good."

As Legolas listened heart-brokenly to Thranduil cry, he didn't notice Kate standing in the hall, twitching as her perfectly manicured nails dug into the skin on her hands.

"What's wrong, sweetie?" Brad asked, approaching quietly and studying her furrowed brow and angry eyes before looking into her son's room through the small crack in the door.

"Thranduil," she spat.

"What about him?"

She rolled her eyes, turning to look at him. "Legolas is still attached to him, despite being lied to and all of that other shit Thranduil did."

Dense as always, he tilted his head. "And your point is?"

"Retard!" She yelled, smacking the back of his head. 

Legolas would've heard, had he not been waist-deep in worry and pain.

She blew out hard through her nose, trying to calm herself.

"If Legolas wants to go back, how do you think we'll keep him here like we planned?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please support this story by leaving comments and kudos! I have so many ideas of angst for this story and I love it so much; but if it's not really something you guys wanna see, then it'll probably be stopped!  
> So tell me, keep it or leave it? :p


	8. I Wish I Could Reach You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Although Legolas and Thranduil have reconciled, new problems arise that will make them question their seemingly toxic relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Thanks so much for waiting, reading the last chapters, and leaving reviews! I loved seeing what you guys had to say about this story!
> 
> Please continue to bear with me; the device I have been writing on crashed a few days ago, and I had to wait for it to be fixed until I could continue writing, which is why this chapter is a little scattered and late.
> 
> Well, enough of my rambling! Please enjoy this chapter!

(17 years, August.)

It was the day before Legolas' first day as a high school senior.

Kate was busy typing some email telling her boss that she was taking another week off and simply doing whatever she had to do at home when Legolas came walking into the kitchen, a rare sight for the normally cloistered teenager.

"Oh wow, you're out of your room," she murmured dryly.

"Hi, mom," he greeted, a beaming smile on his face.

Kate hated that fact that Thranduil probably had something to do with his bright mood.

"You feeling better? I know you've been a little tired, hon," she stood up from the white sofa, walking to stand on the opposite side of the counter Legolas was standing beside.

"Just a bit homesick," Legolas admitted as he poured a small amount of cereal into a bowl. "Miss my daddy, you know?"

If he hadn't been so focused on his actions, he would've saw her eye twitch in annoyance.

"Aww, I'm sure you do," she moved to stand beside Legolas, putting an arm around his shoulders. She didn't miss the way he immediately tensed. "But aren't you glad to finally be with your momma?"

Legolas was silent for a bit, staring at his breakfast as he swallowed and forced out an, "I guess so."

There was an awkward moment of silence before Legolas picked up his bowl and side-stepped out of her touch, a wary smile on his face. 

"I'm..umm... Gonna go talk to my Ada..." He didn't dare look at her face that was immediately flushing with anger. "Bye."

••••••

"Hey Ada."

"Hello, 'Las-nin," Thranduil returned happily as he sorted out his mail, glad to have some 'company' during the mundane task.

Legolas sighed. "Mom tried to hug me again."

A pause. "Did you hug her back?"

Legolas scoffed, stuffing a spoon of frosted flakes into his mouth. "Of course not, Ada. Don't be silly."

"Why not?" Thranduil asked, shuffling a few letters in his hands. "You really should try to...connect with her."

Legolas paused eating, brow furrowing as he slowly lowered his spoon back into the bowl. He swallowed.

"Why don't you return her affection?" his father inquired, sounding truly curious on the other end.

"I don't want it," Legolas finally answered curtly.

"Why, darling?"

"I just want yours, Ada," he stated, slightly bashful. "It's all I need." 

"You need hers too... if you want to mature correctly," Thranduil added the last part playfully.

In truth, he was trying to sort out his now chaotic feelings.

Part of him cheered and thanked God that his baby boy still was so attached to him at that age.

The other part of him was worried about the fact that his baby boy was still so attached to him at that age.

It was, undoubtedly and extremely, confusing, to say the least.

"I don't wanna mature correctly then," Legolas decided, a smile on his face as he sighed, staring out of the window at the sky. 

It was blue and bright, much like his father's eyes.

A pang of melancholy stabbed Legolas.

"I miss you so much," he whispered, the statement slipping from him so easily and freely.

A pause.

"I miss you too, baby," Thranduil returned, voice sweet and gentle.

After a few moments of bittersweet silence, Thranduil cleared his throat, hoping his renewed sadness wouldn't color his words.

"So..are you excited for school, darling?"

Legolas swallowed, weighing his options for a moment. 

He wanted to tell Thranduil that his presence in Canada had a large impact on the city. Thranduil's fame, of course, was worldwide, and America's extreme love for him was nothing compared to Canada's.

Apparently, 'someone' tipped the gossip magazines about his arrival in the country, and the news channels and gazettes were desperate for anything attached or connected to the author, knowing well of the Canadians' obsession with both Thranduil's work and his mysterious, personal life.

Legolas wondered if his father was already worried, and didn't want to worry him even more by saying the truth: he didn't want to go to the school they had selected for him, knowing of the many crazy fan girls.

In fact, he hated stepping outdoors, many times having to face the bright flashes of cameras and yells of his name.

Pause.

But he'd feel infinitely horrible if he lied to Thranduil.

"I'm excited!" He tried to sound happy, really.

"You don't sound too thrilled," the author said with a small smile. "Don't lie to me, 'Las."

Legolas groaned; either he was completely transparent or Thranduil knew him too well.

The teenager huffed, slumping in his seat. 

"Your mother told me that the school you both picked was one of the higher-quality ones there."

"Ada, I'm not--"

"So you don't need to worry about the food," Thranduil noted very seriously, making his son burst into laughter.

"I wasn't worried about that from the start, Ada!" he chimed, trying to smother his giggles.

"See? Then there really is nothing to worry about!" Thranduil said good-naturedly, pausing to add: "Besides, you have your birthday to look forward to as well, my autumn baby."

Legolas rolled his eyes at the nickname with a fond smile, though all of his previous worries were washed from his mind. "Very funny, Ada."

••••••••

(17 years, September.)

It was Saturday, 3 AM.

Legolas could hardly believe that both Thranduil and he had been talking for over 7 hours.

At that moment, Legolas was lying in his bed as he listened to Thranduil's sweet, deep voice singing soft lullabies in a strange yet familiar language.

It offered both pain and comfort.

In truth, Legolas was always on the edge of breaking down whenever he heard Thranduil's voice, unable to bear the fact that his father seemed so close yet was so far away. 

He was always secretly hurting, and he was sure his father was as well. He could hear the veiled pain so clearly it only strengthened his own.

"Sleep now, beloved," Thranduil's gentle command brought him out of his thoughts.

"Don't wanna," he sighed, burying himself further into the pillows and closing his eyes, pretending he was lying next to his father. "Just wanna hear your voice a little..bit...longer.."

"You're so tired," Thranduil hushed his soft, protesting groan, "and it's very late. You need to sleep if you want to enjoy Saturday, love."

Legolas frowned, wanting to say that he wouldn't enjoy Saturday, he honestly hadn't enjoyed a day since his arrival, but, taking in Thranduil's tired voice, relented. "Fine."

"Night, baby boy."

"Night, Ada."

*******

(17 years, October.)

Legolas was panting, feeling lucky that he was able to escape the screaming horde of girls.

It really was too early in the morning to be bothered by teenage girls, desperate for his father's... anything.

He shoved open his locker, stuffing some books in, when Bain, his new, nerdy, shy friend, peeked over his shoulder.

"Man, that looks like a shrine," he commented, squinting at the many pictures Legolas stuck to the inside of the metal panel.

"Really?" Legolas inquired dryly, though he had to agree to a certain level. It was almost completely covered in pictures of his father, and some of them didn't even have himself in them.

He blushed in slight embarrassment when he noticed Bain skim-reading a letter stuck in the open from Thranduil. The sweet, loving words on pastel pink paper made Legolas feel giddy with glee and love, despite knowing the whole thing was somewhat of a strange joke, occurring once every year on Valentines Day.

The letter currently being scrutinized by his friend was one of the letters from the more previous years, and it was filled with many..strange...

"Dude, stop," Legolas laughed embarrassedly, pushing him out of the proximity of his locker with his shoulder and shutting it.

"Sure.." Bain paused, raising an eyebrow as a teasing smile slid on his face. "Do you have a daddy complex?"

Legolas was taken aback. He'd never really thought of it. "I..suppose."

"Oh.." Bain smiled, then looked at him sympathetically. "You probably miss him, don't you?"

Legolas felt the ground pulled out from under him when reality crashed into him once more, and he wanted to smash his own head through his now-closed locker. 

'Just a few more weeks,' he thought to himself as he shut his eyes, trying to block out the noisy world around him. 'A few more weeks until I can see him again.'

••••••

"We can't let Thranduil come here for Legolas' birthday," Kate stated, a deadpan expression on her face as she stared out the window.

"Why not?" Brad wondered as he kept his eyes on the TV. "You know that's all Legolas asked for."

"I know," she sighed, slapping her forehead and wincing when her fake, 2 inch, red nails buried themselves into her skin. "But if he sees Thranduil, his attachment to him will only get worse."

Brad was silent. He knew fully well of the teenager's jealous, fierce love for his father, and he had to admit, though he didn't care for the young boy all that much, he felt bad at the thought of denying Legolas the only thing he asked for when he so blatantly wanted it.

"He's going to be upset," he warned, hoping he would pass off as uncaring.

"I'm not worried about that," Kate huffed, crossing her arms and glaring at him. "Whose side are you on anyway?"

He raised up his hands in surrender. "Yours, honey!"

••••••••

(17 years, November.)

It was evening.

Thranduil was in the middle of absent-mindedly mixing simple, white sauce with pasta when he suddenly felt overcome by a wave of dizziness.

He groaned, nearly collapsing had he not steadied himself by grabbing onto the counter tightly.

He stumbled over to a chair, nearly tripping over himself on the way.

Everything tilted violently and he wanted to vomit, feeling a painful migraine build up behind his eyes.

He barely registered the ringing of his phone, and he was tempted to ignore it.

So he did just that.

However, it continued ringing, with only a small space of time between receiving his answering machine and re-dialing.

Whoever it was had to be desperate.

So, with all of his strength, he stood on extremely unsteady legs, covering his mouth as he willed himself to stumble over to the phone and not get sick.

He picked up the phone, unable to deny his annoyance at...whoever was calling at the most inopportune time.

"Hello?" he grit out, swearing he'd kill Galion, his assistant, for leaving on vacation that very week.

"Ada?" Legolas whimpered, voice stuffy and full of pain.

Thranduil sighed. He definitely should've seen that call coming.

It was November, and Thranduil was planning on visiting for Legolas' birthday. When he ran his plans past his ex-wife, she adamantly protested, saying that it wasn't fair that he'd been present at their son's past birthdays and she never was.

And, okay, he did feel a little bad about the fact, so he quietened down about it.

When Legolas called a few days earlier, inquiring if he was coming to Canada, Thranduil saw it as an opportunity (another thing he felt horrid about), and told his darling to ask his mother, hoping that he would be able to convince her.

It obviously didn't fly the way he hoped it would. 

"What's wrong, baby?"

"I asked Mom if you could come for my birthday," Legolas sobbed, "and she said no."

He sighed again, rubbing his temple. "I'm sorry, iôn-nín."

"Ada, I want you here!" He felt childish saying it that way, but he couldn't help it. Legolas could barely stand being separated from his father for more than a day at a time, and four months was completely wearing him down and shoving him off of the edge of sanity. "Ada, please please--"

"I can't," Thranduil whispered, pained at his son's obvious desperation. "Maybe next time, okay, baby?"

"No!" Legolas cried, grabbing his golden strands and tugging them. "I'm begging you, Adar! Please!"

"I can't if your Mom doesn't let me," Thranduil moaned.

"Why not?"

The author sighed. "You know, I haven't been fair to her--"

"Why do you even care?!?" Legolas shouted. "It was her choice to move here, it wasn't like you told her too!"

"'Las--"

"Do you not want to spend time with me?" Legolas wondered heartbrokenly, before he immediately became angry.

How could Thranduil be so passive about it? Was he the only one who yearned for their reunion? "Do you not care about seeing me anymore?! Is that it?!? Was this your ticket to finally get rid of me?!"

"Lower your tone, iôn-nín," Thranduil ordered firmly, furrowing his brow in concern as he pushed his sickness to the back of his mind. "Is there something else going on? I don't recall you becoming this explosive--"

"Why does it seem like I'm the only one trying to make this happen?!? Why aren't you even trying to talk to Mom about it?!?" Legolas shouted, anger getting a hold of him. "Do you know how much I want this?!?"

"I want to see you just as much as you want to see me!" Thranduil protested, rage washing over him as he wondered how Legolas could think that he didn't want to see him.

Did he know how many countless nights Thranduil sat up awake, unable to sleep because of how much he just missed him?

"If you're upset because you think that I'm not missing you--"

"Maybe I'm just upset because the thought of seeing you again was the only thing that kept me going some days!" Legolas cried, covering his mouth quickly when he realized his mistake.

"What?"

Legolas sobbed, disconnecting the line before throwing his cellphone across the room and against the wall.

He wrapped his arms around his folded legs and rocked himself back and forth.

Ever since his mother said no, all of his hopes and desires toward seeing Thranduil, the man he missed so much it hurted him physically, crashed and burned. The denial sent his mind reeling into violent nausea and a painful headache blaring in his head.

All Legolas could do was cry.

So he did.

Alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What have I done? >.>
> 
> Well, please leave kudos and reviews! I love you all! ❤️


	9. Here Without You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Legolas...
> 
> Thranduil...
> 
> Hurt is the only thing they now know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the tardy update! I've had some trouble writing these two separately (they're normally only one item to me, and now... *cries pathetically*) 
> 
> I'm also sorry about the poorly written angst..  
> I've been feeling a bit sick as of late.
> 
> Well... Go enjoy this chapter!

(18 years...)

"Take it easy now, will you, birthday boy?" Aragorn inquired, a serious tone coloring his words.

"Yes, for the hundredth time," Legolas sighed, a faint smile on his face. He was glad to hear someone back at New York still remembered him.

Then again, if someone he dubbed his best friend didn't call him on his birthday, Legolas would probably flip. 

"Shit, my mom's coming," Aragorn said suddenly. "Talk to you later!"

"Bye..." 

Once the call was disconnected, Legolas stuffed his cellphone in his pocket, lying down on his bed.

This was not how he pictured spending his 18th birthday.

His mother, in vain, had tried to make him come out of his room and go out to dinner with her and her boyfriend, but he refused, threatening to throw a tantrum as he stated his displeasure at spending time with her.

She huffed and left, obviously angry at the concept of her pride being hurt.

Legolas stared at the ceiling blankly, a heavy feeling in his heart as he listened to his phone begin ringing again.

He couldn't bring himself to look at who was calling him, already knowing who was waiting on the other end of the line.

••••••••

Thranduil threw the phone to the floor, the shattering of the object deafening him.

He stumbled backwards until his back met with the cool wood of the door. Sliding to the floor and burying his face in his hands, he swallowed the lump in his throat.

It was Legolas' birthday.

Or was it?

He couldn't remember how many times he tried to call Legolas, the alcohol in his system making him lose all sense of time and feeling. 

Children did not always answer their parents' calls, especially teenagers.

Thranduil knew of many parents who would simply roll their eyes and assume their teenagers were out partying before simply giving up on trying to contact them.

'Why can't I let him go?' Thranduil wondered as he took another large gulp of whiskey.

•••••••

(18 years, Mid-November)

"Man, your relationship with him is sooo not healthy."

Legolas didn't react to the comment made by his friend, simply ignoring him and slamming his locker open.

"Do you see those dark circles under your eyes? You know I know what those are from." Bain crossed his arms. "You probably haven't slept a day since your guys' epic blow up!"

Legolas shot him a glare, and the boy withered immediately. 

The blonde was already on edge; it'd been a week since his birthday, and since then, he and Thranduil hadn't spoken, neither reaching out to contact one another.

It wasn't like he didn't want to talk to his father.

His wounds were simply still open.

"Hey, I'm sorry that I'm worried about you!"

'I don't want your worry,' Legolas thought, feeling drained of any emotion. "Just don't worry then."

Bain sighed exasperatedly, throwing his arms in the air in a 'whatever' motion before leaving.

Legolas sighed, closing his eyes and leaning his forehead against the cold metal of his locker as he wondered about his father and himself.

'Is it unhealthy?'

••••••••

It was a cold night.

Thranduil shivered, rolling in his large bed and wrapping the blankets tighter around him.

Ever since Legolas left, he could hardly stand sleeping alone, much less sleeping in the now large, empty bed.

Thranduil sighed, closing his eyes tightly, and all he could see were golden, silky strands of hair and blue, starlight-filled eyes.

He missed Legolas' sweet smile and his gentle touch, his soft, warm, creamy skin and the bubbly laughter that never failed to make him smile.

He missed the long conversations between them, the talks about nothing and, at the same time, everything. 

He missed the sweet, gentle whispers and bashful confessions of love between them.

He missed being happy.

Tears welled in his eyes as he tried to bear the hurt that came with missing his darling.

•••••••

Legolas was laughing.

Not because someone told a funny joke, or because something particularly hilarious happened.

In truth, he really didn't know why he began laughing. 

He wasn't happy (far from it).

Perhaps it was something Aragorn said.

"Didn't you hear me, 'Las?" his best friend said loudly, irritation in his words. "You're losing it! You need to let him go!"

The last statement hit the blonde hard, like a brick wall slamming into him. His laughing stopped abruptly.

"Legolas, this...obsession with your father really isn't--"

"It's not obsession!" Legolas shouted, rage suddenly washing over him. "You just think it's weird because you don't know what it's like!"

"Let me ask you something," Aragprn breathed deeply, trying to calm himself. "How long can you go without even thinking about him?"

Legolas opened his mouth, ready to begin arguing with his friend, before the question reached him. 

He never really thought of it.

"Not for a second, right?" Aragorn suggested, a soft sigh escaping him. "Legolas, you know I..I really care about you. I've grown up with you from kindergarten, and you've been like my brother since then..."

The soft words from his normally shielded friend made Legolas tear, made him remember what he'd left back at New York.

"I know," he whispered, tears gathering in his eyes. "I'm sorry for... Being like this.. I just--"

"I know you miss him," Aragorn interrupted. "I would too, he's an awesome dad to have."

Legolas smiled, but it was bitter, and tears streamed down his cheeks. 

"Legolas," the brunette whispered, words pausing and reluctant. "You know what you have to do, don't you?"

He wanted to scream 'no,' hang up on his friend, and go back to being an immobile, pitiful, crying lump on his bed, but he knew.

If he ever wanted to be free of the pain and heartbreak that was slowly killing him everyday, he had to do it.

"Promise?"

Swallowing, Legolas used all of his waning strength to whisper out a 'yes.'

•••••••

'He isn't calling.'

Thranduil took another burning gulp of alcohol, watching the phone as scrupulously as a mad man through his tears.

'He doesn't care,' his traitorous mind whispered.

•••••••

(18 years, early December)

"Legolas, explain this," Kate said, voice trembling as she tried to hide her anger. She laid the teacher's note on the table in front of a silent teenager.

Legolas stared at the paper blankly.

"Legolas!" she barked, slamming her hand on the table in an attempt to capture his attention. "Explain why you are failing at most of these classes!"

The teenager remained unfazed, face as emotionless as a porcelain doll.

'This is what you've done to me, Ada," his mind whispered.

"You know how much money I put toward your education at this private school! If I knew you were this stupid, I would've sent you to a public school!"

Legolas shut his eyes tightly, hands balling into fists as he listened to his mother's hateful words fill his ears and his heart.

"You're so stupid!" she yelled, pointing one of her long, red fingernails at him. 

Her words didn't hurt, and her words never would. 

They meant nothing to him.

Unless....

"How on earth did your father put up with you for this long?" she laughed, and Legolas flinched at that. "I'm completely surprised he didn't beg for me to take you sooner."

The rest of her meaningless, insulting words didn't reach him. He was too stuck on her last statement.

Legolas stood abruptly, startling his mother, and fled from the kitchen with an even heavier heart. 

He ignored his mother's screams for him to 'get his ass back to the kitchen,' instead focusing on the whirlwind of emotions wrecking havoc in his soul.

Was he stupid?

Was that why his father made no move to reach out to him?

Was that why Thranduil didn't want him anymore?

He slammed his door close, the pain at the realization making him collapse to the floor and begin sobbing.

••••••••

Thranduil quietly swirled the strong, red alcohol in his glass, staring blankly at the stars as the wind around him seemed to whisper the quiet, past words of his darling into his ear.

"You're so beautiful, Ada. Much more than the stars."

"Oh darling," he sighed, having been intoxicated just enough to make him believe that his words were able to reach his child's ears. "If only you knew the truth."

He felt the wind blow against his open, scarred flesh and he would've winced at the pain had the hurt in his heart not been as strong as it was.

"..Perhaps you would recoil in disgust if you knew," Thranduil noted idly, hand reaching to absently begin playing with his long, slender fingers, pretending the cold, smooth skin was that of his child's. 

Thranduil sighed, not daring to look down into the crimson liquid at his reflection: the half-blind, two-faced demon that awaited him.

••••••••

(18, Mid-December)

It was a cold December evening, and one of the very rare times that Thranduil was stone-cold sober.

One of Thranduil's hands were buried in his hair, the other pressed against a side of his face as he leaned over the counter of the bathroom sink, his bout of sickness leaving him weak.

He sobbed.

He felt as if he couldn't breathe, felt as if there was no air around him.

He felt like he was drowning.

And there was no one to comfort him, no one to reassure him that they'd never leave, that they'd always be there.

Everyone he'd ever loved left him.

All of the same people he stayed in Earth for, searched and wandered the earth for years trying to find. 

Gone.

Did his love and dedication to them mean nothing?

Thranduil could still hear Legolas' voice, his laughter, his cries, and pleas.

Every second of every minute of every hour of every day was torture.

He was trapped in a void from which he could not escape, was lost in a direct as pitch black as night, was blind..and deaf...and dumb, utterly cut off from any sensible consolation.

The Christmas lights shining from the city into the large windows of his penthouse seemed to mock him, remind him of all the times from the past that once seemed so full of joy, now only pictures and voices to further add to his torture.

•••••••••

Legolas sat in his bed, nervously listening to the phone attempt to connect with who he was calling.

Many times, he had contemplated the fulfilling of his heart's secret desire, wondering if carrying it out would make him more miserable or a little better.

Now, he simply no longer cared.

He had to know how his father was doing, if he missed Legolas just as much as he missed him.

If he was utterly as broken as him.

The call was picked up, and his breath hitched.

"Aragorn," Legolas said, voice trembling.

"Dude, are you alright? What's wrong?"

"I need you to..." the younger swallowed hard, pushing his anger at his father aside. "I need you to do something for me."

"Sure.." The brunette on the other side paused, before a slight wave of laughter distorted his normally serious tone. "Unless you want me to go over there for Christmas, which personally I would love, but mom's just grounded me for a--"

"No, not that," Legolas said hastily, knowing he had to spit it out before he became too timid. "Can you check on my dad?"

There was a pause.

Then a sigh.

"Legolas.. Don't you remember what you're trying to do?"

"I--"

"I know you really, really miss him and you'll only miss him more if--"

"Aragorn!" Legolas yelled, pausing. He needed Aragorn on his side. He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to regather his calmness. "I need to know..how he is.."

"You know what will happen..." Aragorn sighed at his stubborn friend. Ever since Legolas had called him a month ago, sobbing like the end of the world had come, he'd become fiercely worried and protective of the sensitive blonde.

"Just a quick recon, then call me and tell me, okay?"

"But..."

"That can be your Christmas present to me, okay?" Legolas said softly, desperation bleeding into his voice. "Just check on him.. Please."

Aragorn sighed.

•••••••••

It'd been two days, and Legolas had been anxiously waiting on edge.

When his phone finally rang, he jumped and raced over to it with a superhuman speed, picking it up in trembling hands.

He paused, thumb right over the green 'accept' button.

A sudden nervousness washed over his anxiety.

What would he hear? he wondered.

Blankly, he registered the phone's insistent rings to pick it up cease.

••••••••

(18 years, Christmas Eve.)

The sorrow bit at his heart and slowly tortured the life out of his eyes. 

His anguish was too deep, too agonizing for tears to come to his relief. No soothing rain fell from his eyes to wash away the bitterness, the wretchedness, the desolation that had only grown stronger with each passing day.

The room in which he dwelled for the past few days was dark, nearly pitch black if the lights of the city were unable to pierce through the thin, silk curtains, bathing his form and the room in a soft glow.

He sat in his bed, the one that he once shared with his..his one love before..

Quietly, he sipped the alcohol that became so attuned to his sense of taste that he barely registered the bitter liquid flowing down his throat as he pressed painfully to his heart a picture of his darling, his only son.

In the eve of what once was one of his favorite, most joyful days, he waited, hoping without hope for a light, for a guide, for someone to know and understand what he felt.

••••••

It was crazy.

Legolas was convinced that he was completely out of his mind.

If leaving in the middle of the night to sneak on a plane on Christmas Eve to no one's knowledge wasn't crazy, he didn't know what was.

He stared out of the airplane window at the city (his home city) lit up below him, glowing in the night, through his tear-filled eyes.

Hearing that Aragorn himself witnessed Thranduil drink himself into an alcohol induced coma while holding a picture of of his child to his heart made Legolas fall apart.

It reminded him of the time around his 5th year of existence, when Thranduil became extremely ill after an episode of alcohol poisoning.

He vaguely remembered himself breaking down completely as his mother drove him to the hospital, running to his father's room as fast as his small legs could carry him and leaving Kate in the dust.

"Darling," Thranduil had whispered, a small, sweet smile on the face that had previously been extremely pallid and emotionless.

He remembered it being the most beautiful sight he had ever saw.

"Ada!" his small self cried, rushing forward and throwing himself in his father's lap, clinging onto Thranduil's waist tightly as he made him swear up and down that he would never drink again.

Legolas' tears nearly spilt over as he lost himself in his memories.

••••••••••

A key hidden under the rug before the door of the penthouse had been preserved there for years.

Legolas was praising the Higher Power for keeping it there.

It was 5 AM, and he was dead tired once he entered his home for the first time in months.

It was extremely bizarre, and in truth, a bit on the scary side.

All of the rooms were darkened, the eerie and only source of light pouring in from the large windows, illuminating the desolation of the rooms. The sofas were overturned, the rugs strewn strangely across the white marble floors.

As Legolas advanced into the house, he found broken porcelain laying across the kitchen counters, spills of red wine and what had to be whiskey.

He swallowed as he advanced to Thranduil's bedroom, heart pounding erratically in his chest as he wondered what he would find.

And what he found broke his heart.

Thranduil laid in the middle of his bed, his form slowly rising and falling with each breath.

Upon closer inspection, Legolas found his lips stained red with a nearby bottle of alcohol, found his ribs and spine poking out that much more than normal, his cheekbones so sharp that Legolas was almost afraid to touch them.

He was pale, so dreadfully pale. The liveliness seemed to have disappeared, the young and blissful air about him vanished, and now, he was an ancient yet beautiful being, alive but weary of the world and its torments.

Legolas could barely hold himself back. He hastily slipped off his shoes and shrugged off his jacket, dropping his backpack beside the bed.

Haltingly, he slipped under the sheets, lying himself beside Thranduil. 

For a moment, the world stopped as he stared at the beautiful man before him. Unable to control himself, he reached out, cupping Thranduil's cheek gingerly.

The spark of warmth, the feeling of familiar skin-against-skin contact made Legolas choke, and soon, his arms were full of the sleeping author.

"Ada," he mumbled tearily, pressing his cheek against Thranduil's chest and listening to the strong heartbeats. Eventually, they lulled his exhausted body to sleep.

He was finally home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... They're back together.
> 
> But for how long? *evil laugh to mask the sobs*
> 
> Please leave comments and kudos if you liked it! Or if...you know, you didn't :( (lol, no pressure, friends!)


	10. Never Turn Your Back On The Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil and Legolas have a nice Christmas.
> 
> And then some.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> Firstly, I'm so sorry about this super late chapter! I feel badly about how tardy this is!
> 
> Second, I was super busy this past week, as I am planning to go have a vacation, so forgive me if this is not too well written.

When he awoke, it was still mostly dark, the clouds covering the city sky and blocking out the sun.

He was pressed against Thranduil, the author's body shielding him from winter's frosty bite and keeping him warm, despite the thin, flimsy blankets.

He still couldn't believe that he was home.

It was like he was dreaming.

He felt Thranduil stir in his sleep, and lifted himself up on one elbow, gazing down at his father.

He was still so pale, so sickly looking. 

And he was still the most beautiful thing Legolas had ever seen.

Bending over, Legolas' lips gently touched Thranduil's cheek before he sat up, placing his bare feet on the cold, wooden floor and making his way to the kitchen.

Strangely, the lack of colorful lights and shining tinsel didn't bother him; he'd never felt more joyful than at that very moment.

As Legolas pulled out a pan and a few cooking utensils (the leaf-green set his father had gifted him on his 13th birthday when his passions for cooking and baking were at the highest) he couldn't help but smile, the feeling of familiarity making him warm and fuzzy on the inside.

As silently as he could, he began whipping up some French Toast (the Oropherions' traditional Christmas breakfast), wondering when Thranduil would awaken.

'Did Thranduil drink enough to suffer from a hangover?' his mind inquired.

Legolas paused his whisk beating the eggs and milk (with a touch of vanilla, cinnamon, and sugar), and put a finger to his chin (a strange habit he acquired from Thranduil) as he thought.

And thought.

And thought--

Until strong arms wrapped around his waist, startling him.

Silence.

"You're real," Thranduil whispered into his ear slowly, voice incredulous and breathless. "I can touch you.."

"Hi, Ada," Legolas returned softly, turning easily in Thranduil's embrace and returning it. A blissful moment of once again being in the arms he belonged passed, and he looked up at the author's angelic face, frowning when he discovered the half-lidded, unfocused, crystal eyes.

"...Ada--?"

"You're still so beautiful," Thranduil murmured almost incoherently, lifting a hand and gently touching his smooth cheek. "So...so beautiful."

"You are too, beloved," Legolas returned, brow furrowed as he lifted his own hand to cup his cheek and try to catch his gaze.

The glazed look in Thranduil's eyes explained his behavior. 

"You're sleepwalking, aren't you?"

A clumsy smile just lit up his face, and he laughed sleepily.

Legolas sighed, grabbing Thranduil's arm and leading him to the couch. "Come, Adar."

The elder followed silently, lying down without so much as a small noise coming out of him.

Legolas picked up a plush throw from the edge of the white sofa, dusting it off before covering his father's long body with it.

As he draped the grey blanket around his broad shoulders, he whispered, "Night, Ada."

Thranduil's eyes slipped close, and soon, he was dreaming once more.

•••••••••

It was in the late morning when he awoke, bleary eyes taking in the sight of the dark gray clouds in the large window before him and the snow falling into the city.

A familiar stab of pain in his heart, the reality of the situation (or what once was the reality of the situation), the sting of missing someone was immediately quelled when his tired eyes looked across the room to the kitchen, and he saw him.

His breath caught in his throat, and his eyes widened as he stared at Legolas.

His child sat at the table, quietly eating what he presumed to be French Toast as he typed away on his tiny phone.

It was such a strange and bizarre sight to see; after all, his flaxen-haired darling sat there swinging his legs under the table, munching contently and lost in the world of texting as if all of the pain of the last few months of being apart from his father was all but a bad dream.

"Legolas," the name sounded soft and reverent as it escaped his lips, like a prayer spoken in the dead of night.

The name, though quiet and nearly inaudible, quickly caught the teenager's attention, and his head snapped to the side, looking at his father with wide eyes.

"'Las.." Thranduil whispered again, throwing the blanket off and standing on shaky legs to run and collect his son in his arms before the younger beat him to it, running so blindingly fast that Thranduil swore he didn't even see him move. The wind was suddenly knocked out of him when Legolas attacked him with a fierce and tight hug, making them both topple over back onto the couch.

"Ada," he repeated over and over, the words mumbled in his neck.

"You're here, oh my g--" Thranduil laughed breathlessly, heart lifting so fast it made him dizzy as he pressed his nose against the top of Legolas' head, breath quickening as he realized that it was real.

Legolas was real, and he was real, and everything was....

"IloveyouI'msosorryfornotcallingandeverything," the younger rambled, pausing when Thranduil pulled back with a confused smile and a soft, strangely inarticulate, "Huh?"

"I love you," Legolas repeated, taking a deep breath as he swallowed his shame. "And I'm sorry for not calling..and everything."

Legolas looked away slowly, cursing softly when his eyes suddenly filled to the brim with tears.

It was strange, the high, euphoric joy suddenly crashed into solemn melancholy once more.

He saw Thranduil's concern out of the corner of his eye, and he let out a small laugh. "I was so stupid, Ada, and selfish.. But you have to know that I was just hurting. I missed you so much and at that time I felt like you had just--"

Legolas paused when Thranduil's lips were against his forehead, quieting him.

"Iôn-nín," he whispered, pulling away and pressing their foreheads together so he could look into the younger's glistening eyes. "I understand. I was foolish as well, letting you forget how much I..."

His gaze suddenly fell on Legolas' face, his lips suddenly feeling a strong pull towards his son's, and he swallowed, throat becoming incredibly dry.

"Darling, may I..." he halted, wondering if the question would somehow scare the younger and make him think his father was a creep.

Of course, before the younger left, Legolas was completely comfortable kissing and receiving those tiny acts of love, even in public places where Thranduil could many times see people shake their head or wrinkle their face in disgust.

But what if being away changed his little prince somehow?

What if he had grown in maturity and personality, so much that he began thinking those acts of affection were...

Disgusting? Revolting? 

Wrong?

He was so lost in his thoughts that he barely registered Legolas' soft lips pressed tightly against his, the sweet sugary syrup and hint of cinnamon invading his sense of taste.

He cupped Legolas' cheeks in his palms when he felt the blonde trying to deepen the kiss to get a reaction out of the once frozen Thranduil, but he didn't know that the author was so relieved, so happy that his child still maintained the same mindset as he had before he left.

"Ada," Legolas murmured when he pulled away, a soft sigh escaping him and caressing Thranduil's lips with warm air. "I've missed you.."

"I've missed you as well," Thranduil said softly, a hand coming up to stroke the teenager's golden hair. "I love you, my darling tithen-las."

Legolas smiled, leaning forward and pressing a brief kiss to the author's lips in reply before laying his head on his shoulder, shifting on top of his father to make their bodies fit more comfortably on the rather small sofa.

They both silently stared out the glass, watching the snowflakes dance about in the air before disappearing into the city below. 

Thranduil's arms wrapped around the younger's tiny waist, and Legolas intertwined their hands together.

"Are you alright?" he inquired.

"Now that you are here, yes."

••••••••

Dinner (steaks, mashed potatoes and some vegetables to balance everything out) having been finished, Thranduil and Legolas sat by the fireside, the former nursing a glass of sweet wine to calm his raging nerves, and the younger contently listening to a soft, slow song playing on the radio.

As Thranduil listened to the tune that had become familiar over the long years, he set his goblet down, standing up and offering his hand to his confused son.

"May I have this dance?" he asked in his most smooth and deep tone, making the younger snicker before clearing his throat, and taking the older's outstretched hand.

"Of course, Adar," he beamed, standing from the hardwood floor, one hand coming up to rest on Thranduil's broad shoulder and the other hand intertwining with the author's.

Putting a gentle hand on his hip, they began to sway to the song, beaming smiles stuck to their faces at the silliness of the situation. 

Legolas closed his eyes with a soft exhale, taking in the situation, the atmosphere.

Thranduil was simply lost in the beauty of the moment, the warmth and the flickering, orange light from the fire filling the otherwise dark room, the snow and flakes descending outside, reflecting the light of the moon, seemingly fluttering about the duo as they danced. 

The content and warm feeling of love and satisfaction, of finally being whole once more made him breathless.

The sight of Legolas, bathed in the light from the fire, dark, long eyelashes pressed against his flushed cheeks, golden hair and ivory skin reflecting some of the auburn flames and increasing his ethereal beauty....

It was enough to make him feel as if this was as close to heaven on earth as he could get, that the warmth in his heart was not that of a father's for a son.

Nor that of a lover's for a soulmate.

No, it was something deeper, more spiritual and sewn into his soul, embedded in his heart and burned in his mind.

It was as vast and deep as the sea, as endless as the immense skies and heavens.

"I love you," Thranduil whispered.

And he meant it.

••••••••

(The next day..)

Thranduil groaned, throwing his forearm over his eyes.

It had to be the seventh time his phone had vibrated.

At 2 AM.

The one night where he had a sweet, warm body pressed up against him and keeping him toasty...

And that was what happened.

He was seriously beginning to wonder if the universe hated him.

He blindly reached out for the damned piece of technology, nearly knocking it off the bed stand beside him. 

"'ello?" he murmured sleepily, hoping he didn't disturb the sleeping angel cuddled into his side.

"THRANDUIL!" a sharp screech violated his sense of hearing and he flinched, pulling the phone away from his ear just in time. "I'VE BEEN FREAKING CALLING YOU ALL NIGHT!! WHAT ON THE FACE OF THIS RETARDED EARTH HAVE YOU BEEN DOING?!?"

"Shut up!" Thranduil whispered harshly, wanting to throttle the woman on the other end when he noticed Legolas stirring in his sleep.

"Don't tell me to shut up!" Kate yelled, though she continued in a slightly less deafening tone. "I've been trying to get ahold of you all freaking day and--"

"What is this about even?"

He could literally hear her eyes rolling. "Is Legolas with you?" 

Thranduil sat up abruptly, looking down at his darling. "What do you mean--?"

"I wake up in the morning--okay, it was the afternoon, but I wake up, go to his room to bring him lunch, and he's not there!" she yelled, stopping Thranduil's world. "Like, what the hell?!? Where the f--"

"He's here, Kate," Thranduil said abruptly as his mind raced, trying to find answers.

How could Legolas have just up and left his mother without so much as a warning?

He could barely hear Kate's high pitched whines, only humming as if agreeing when it got too quiet. He barely felt Legolas' arms snaking around his waist as if trying to hold him in place when he finally got off the phone.

He silently stared into the dark, mind tangled and weaved in the many emotions he was experiencing. 

"Ada?" a soft puff of warm air tickled his ear, lips pressing against the shell of it momentarily. "You're all tense; what's wrong?"

Thranduil didn't respond immediately, instead taking his time to turn on the small lamp on his bedside desk. When he looked at the young blonde (who had a hand pressed momentarily against his eyes to shield himself from the light), Thranduil steeled himself.

"Legolas, did you come here without permission from your mother?"

There was silence.

And it was just enough to confirm Thranduil's suspicious.

He buried his face in his hands and let out a frustrated moan.

"Ada-" Legolas said, but was sharply interrupted by his father.

"Legolas, you cannot just hop on a plane and come visit! That's dangerous and--"

"Maybe I've not come to visit."

Thranduil's brain shorted for a moment. "What?"

Legolas pulled his arms away from him, and he instantly missed the warmth, the feeling of belonging.

He looked down at his slender hands, facial expression unrecognizable.

"I've turned 18 already, Ada."

Immediately, Thranduil knew what was coming, what the age was hinting at, and he shook his head.

"No, 'Las...."

"Ada," Legolas said in a desperate tone, grabbing onto his forearm and looking him in the eyes. "Please.. Please, I want to stay with you..."

Thranduil closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger as he felt a headache coming on. "Tithen-las.."

"Ada, it's my choice; I am 18," Legolas noted in a way that sounded as if he was trying to convince himself of that statement. 

"Legolas, your mother and I already paid for your entire school year there," Thranduil sighed, looking at the crestfallen teenager. "You know how expensive it is, $20,000+, and you wouldn't want it to go to waste, would you?"

Legolas stared at his hands, a half-joking, half-serious statement coming out of his mouth without his will.

"Is that all I'm worth to you?" he wondered out loud with a sad, little laugh.

"Don't be--you know I don't--" Thranduil, strangely, had run out of words. How would he convey to his child that the situation was much bigger and not just about money; that Thranduil felt guilty for essentially depriving the child of his mother and, in turn, Legolas had grown to despise the woman?

"Please, I want to stay--"

"I know you do, my love," Thranduil assured, putting a hand on his shoulder and his fingertips under Legolas' sharp chin, tilting his head up so he'd look at him. "And that's why I need you to stay with Mom for now. I want you to..."

Thranduil paused, heart feeling as if it was being clenched painfully when Legolas' once happy and joyful eyes filled with sadness and misery. "Get to know her, and become just a little more closer with her before you just completely shut her out of your life."

At Legolas' slightly confused and completely upset face, Thranduil continued, hoping he could make him understand. "While you were away, I felt what your mom had to go through every day. The absence of a child is one of the worst things imaginable, and I wouldn't even wish this pain on the worst of my enemies. She loves you, darling."

'She doesn't!' Legolas wanted to scream, but he didn't.

Of course, he understood what Thranduil was saying, to a certain extent. But all he could think of were the previous months of longing and pain, the sleepless nights filled with angst and despair.

How could Thranduil let him go, make such a decision so quickly?

Did he not feel the same pain as Legolas had?

"But I thought you..." Legolas paused, once emotion-full eyes becoming stoic and unreadable. "Never mind, I understand."

With those curt words, Legolas threw off the blankets and stood, walking away quietly and leaving without another word.

Thranduil stood, uneasiness pooling in his stomach and making him feel sick.

For some reason, he knew he'd rather have a full blown crying Legolas than a suddenly cold and impassive one.

It reminded him too much of himself.

And that was the last thing he wanted his child to be.

"'Las, I'm sorry," Thranduil apologized as he followed the teenager through the dark hallways.

"No, it's fine," Legolas noted dryly as he continued his unrelenting pace to his room. "I just thought you understood what it was like, to be separated from someone you loved with all of your heart. I thought you were hurting just as much as I was."

Legolas stopped at his door, opening it for the first time since his arrival with swift, calculated moves. "Clearly, I was wrong."

"Legolas, please don't make this more difficult--"

"Difficult?" Legolas laughed sharply, running his hand through his golden hair exasperatedly. "I'm making this difficult?"

Thranduil was silent, eyes narrowed as he watched his own child change completely before his eyes into a cold, dark stranger.

"May I remind you whose brilliant idea this was?" Legolas made mocking hand gestures as if he was trying to add more to his father's pain.

If that was even possible.

He spun, about to slam the door and not really caring if he hit Thranduil, before the latter held it in place.

"Legolas, please don't do this. I love you--"

"Lemme ask you this, okay?" Legolas paused, gathering his thoughts that were a mess of tangled emotions and hurt, before saying them out loud. "Do you say you love people, give them a night of magical, happy experiences, trick them into thinking that it'll last before completely destroying their hopes and dreams?"

Thranduil was struck silent once more, by Legolas' burning words or by his heart breaking in his chest, he didn't know. 

Legolas, though the pain was visible on his face, was strangely looking as if he'd won over his father, as if hurting him gave him satisfaction. 

Perhaps it was true at the moment.

After being the one who was burned every time, the scathed and ruined one, it made him feel strangely triumphant, that he could hurt the person who continued hurting him over and over again.

"Legolas," Thranduil finally said softly, blue eyes shining with tears, "I never wanted, and never will want, to make you leave me. But it's what's best."

"Tell yourself that when I'm gone," Legolas spat, immediately regretting his words when Thranduil ducked his head, trying to hide the tears that slid down his cheeks.

Legolas slammed the door on him, trembling as he leaned against it and slid to the floor.

He wanted so badly to cup Thranduil's cheeks and wipe the tears away, apologize and beg for his forgiveness, but his mind and heart were bruised and bleeding, his soul aching to the point where he was clutching at himself, trying to soothe the hurt.

Thranduil, on the other side, had went from almost unbearable agony and grief to having a raging fire of anger burn within him. 

He always used to be so sure of himself, so certain his choices of action were correct. And although he was quite sure he had handled the situation correctly, the young boy's words made him question himself, and his actions.

But what infuriated (and saddened him mostly) was the fact that Legolas had forgotten, had failed to recall the deep, intense love Thranduil bore for his little prince.

Did Legolas truly think he was that easy to dispose of?

No, it would take eternities and centuries of misery and pain for Thranduil to forget his darling for even a split moment.

••••••

Intense anguish.

Red-hot anger and rage.

Soul-crushing hurt.

Then, he was numb.

He was sitting on the dark, wooden floors of his bedroom, unable to find sleep ever since....

He strangely couldn't feel anything.

Of course, there were still the undertones of heartache and misery, but he couldn't really feel anything else.

All he knew was his mouth was dry, and perhaps alcohol could've really helped.

He wished he had kept some in his room (or, more accurately, not have drunken it all). He didn't want to go out of his dark room, afraid that he'd bump into Legolas and be forced to deal with him again.

Thranduil was too tired for that; both emotionally and physically.

Kate had just called, and they had arranged Legolas' plans to travel back. It was hard, and it hurt Thranduil so deeply that, out of the corner of his eye, he started to see the skin off the side of his face begin to burn into non-existence, the exposed flesh and gaping wounds in his once beautiful face rearing its ugly form in all of its monstrous and revolting glory. 

So, Thranduil sat quietly, contemplating nothing and everything, what it meant to live.

And what it meant to exist.

•••••••

It was evening, and Thranduil had finally convinced himself to pull himself off of the floor and make an edible dinner, hoping that he could convince his little leaf to open the door and allow him to eat with him.

He made a quick pasta with pancetta, fried eggs, and Parmesan (one of Legolas' favorites), and plated some, walking over to his son's door.

He didn't know why he was shaking, or why he was so nervous. 

Something felt wrong.

Something felt like it was...missing.

Shaking off the feeling of impending dread, Thranduil knocked, waiting for a few moments before imploring softly,

"Las, please open the door."

There was no response.

Another series of knocks. "Baby, we can talk about this, alright? I know you're upset, but I just want to do what's best for you."

Silence.

Thranduil sighed, grabbing the doorknob and ready to break down the wooden panel separating him from his love, when he discovered that it was unlocked.

Slowly and quietly, he turned the doorknob, wondering (and fearing) what he would find.

What he found made him drop the plate in surprise, stand frozen in shock as he stared into the room.

It was a mess, shelves overturned, the mattress hanging off the frame, blankets and books lying across the floor.

But what made his heart drop in his stomach, what made his mind halt and falter, made his pulse begin to race with fear and panic was simply this:

Legolas was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! I hope you liked it! And I'm sorry if there were any spelling/grammatical errors! >_  
> Unfortunately, this will be my last update for March, as I am taking a holiday. But I will return with the final chapter in early April!  
> Please leave kudos and comments, so I can have something to look forward to when I return!  
> Thank you <3


	11. Let The Ashes Fall, Forget About Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end has come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, I'm so sorry this took a while to write! I didn't have much time on my holiday, so I just whipped this chapter out with all of my passion and sadness and inner problems and...  
> Secondly, I'm sorry if this writing is a bit raw and emotionally jerky! I triied :(  
> Lastly, go enjoy this last chapter!
> 
> P.S. By the way, if you see a part of the story sectioned off from the rest of it by "*****" instead of the normal "•••••" it means it's a flashback!  
> Okay, sorry, go read on, friends!

(Five days later, 18 years...)

Thranduil walked through the snow, shivering. By that time, his fingers were blue, shaking uncontrollably from the cold.

Hours had melted into days, days into eternity.

In all of the ages that he had lived, none had brought the pain and anguish the last few days had provided.

When Legolas left, he felt as if his soul and heart were decaying, being tossed in the fires of desolation and heartbreak.

And he thought he knew what suffering was.

But he was wrong.

It was all he seemed to be now: wrong.

He had been walking relentlessly for days, occasionally calling out his darling's name. He was sure he looked crazy to other people; he could feel their questioning and judgmental looks.

But he didn't care.

He had been walking and searching too long to even consider giving up.

Not that he would. 

Thranduil quietly passed through the snow, the dark hood of his seemingly useless jacket covering most of his face as not to expose his identity to the rest of the world about him.

People walked in large bustling crowds, the smartly dressed men and women mingling with the more casually or poorly dressed people. Some walked slowly, taking their time and watching the snow fall. Some walked fast, bumping rudely into the cold and shivering blonde.

Thranduil hated walking in the city (only agreeing warily to go when Legolas begged him to); the obnoxious fumes and smoke from the cars speeding by or paused at a red light often sickened and disgusted him, the diseased birds and beasts alike having the same effect on him.

Normally, he would try to stay indoors (unless he had the chance to step into raw nature), but now..

Now with the fact that his child was out in the cold somewhere...

The fear of something evil befalling his love kept him going, kept him forcing to put one sore foot in front of the other and continue trudging on.

But after three days of no sleep and relentless walking....

He was tired.

So tired.

•••••••

Legolas was crying, shaking as Aragorn gingerly patted his shoulder a bit awkwardly.

He had arrived, wet and covered in snow in the dead of night, begging both Aragorn's parents to hide him and his whereabouts for a few days.

Of course, being the good-natured people they were, they immediately agreed, taking him in and allowing him to crash in his best friend's room.

Just a few minutes earlier, he had heard Thranduil's voice, inquiring if they knew where Legolas was.

Aragorn had quickly refused, knowing that the young blonde didn't want to be found, and shooed away a slightly suspicious (and completely heartbroken) father.

Now, Legolas was sitting on the floor, back against the side of the bed with his friend, sobbing pathetically.

"Legolas, man," the brunette sighed sympathetically, hesitating for a moment, before pulling the younger boy into his arms.

He barely could believe what Legolas had revealed to him, the reason he was in New York but no longer with his father. Aragorn almost couldn't believe Thranduil would want to send him back; after all, it seemed as if Mr. Oropherion was just as attached to his son as the latter was to his father.

"I don't understand," Legolas whispered into his shoulder, trembling. "I thought he l-loved me."

"He does," assured Aragorn, and, knowing of Legolas' skepticism when in such a state of mind, flailed mentally as he tried to find some damning evidence. "He just... I don't know, maybe he has to travel for another book tour, you know? And.. And he doesn't want you to come along because... Because, well, you know, you can't finish your senior year if you're out and about."

Legolas looked at him with a glare. "He's already done a book tour. Last year."

Aragorn swallowed, knowing he was defeated. "But..but maybe--"

"No!" Legolas shouted, and the older was taken aback slightly.

Legolas never shouted, not when Tauriel left him, not when he failed a math test...

He never really shouted around Aragorn, really.

"I'm sorry," Legolas apologized, crumbling once more and eyes filling with tears as he wrapped his arms around Aragorn's neck and hid his face in his shoulder. "I didn't mean to--I shouldn't have-- I'm sorry."

"It's alright." Aragorn put his arms around his friend, and held him as he cried.

•••••••

(5 days later, 18 years...)

New York was filled with hotels, motels, and backpackers. Thranduil had searched the ones in reasonable distance already, asked the workers and wanderers if any had seen his son.

All said "no," and Thranduil was drowning and losing himself further with each passing day.

He only wanted to know that Legolas was safe.

The snow that fell upon him held no candle to the emptiness inside him.

••••••••

(Three days later, 18 years...)

When Thranduil returned to his car, it was covered in snow and frost, nearly unrecognizable in both shape and color.

He faintly remembered entering it, sitting in dead silence, mind completely and scarily blank. He was still as a stone for a few minutes as he ran through the places he had already been.

The list was long, and time was running out.

And it seemed as if it was only a matter of time till Thranduil found Legolas' unmoving, bloodied body under a pile of snow in an alleyway somewhere.

His heart throbbed painfully at the thought, and he gasped, tears springing to his eyes.

It was extremely unlike him to cry, but after days and nights of failure and despair...

Suddenly, Thranduil's palm was pressed against his mouth, and he was sobbing into his hand, trembling and afraid.

What if Legolas was somewhere in the cold, wandering through the city, too consumed in his sorrow to see the danger and threats to his wellbeing around him?

What if he was somewhere crying for someone to save him as he was hurt and violated by some bastard?

Thranduil didn't know where he was, didn't know if he was alright or if he was somewhere being tortured and hurt.

He didn't know.

And it was killing him.

••••••••

(A week later, 18 years...)

It's a week before Thranduil found himself lost and disoriented, wallet stolen in his few hours of sleep, and completely exhausted.

He thought of how he went out searching for Legolas in fear that he might find him frozen and dead in the city and laughed.

He wasn't far from the same fate either.

If his mind were clear, he would've been able to continue for weeks, but the pain in his heart was fading him, weakening him and he could feel himself being erased from existence.

He slid down a street lamp one night in a park faraway from his home, shivering and aching.

The warm, golden light of the lamp and the stars taunted him, mocked him.

Quietly, he wished he could've told his child he loved him one last time before he passed out. 

•••••••

Legolas quietly opened the door with the long-lost key from his backpack, hesitantly stepping into the large penthouse.

After Aragorn convinced him that it wasn't the best idea to hide from his father (who was probably going to eventually find him), Legolas took the subway to his home, slightly afraid of his father's reaction to his return. 

All of the lights were off in the penthouse, the pitch-black of the night filling every corner and square inch of the place untouched by the city lights.

Maybe it had something to do with the fact that it was completely dark, or with the fact that it was silent and still, but strangely, he felt like a stranger in his own home.

Was he allowed to call it that anymore?

Legolas looked around the house, calling his father once or twice.

He couldn't explain the strange, sick feeling he got in his stomach when he realized that his father wasn't home, but he tried to shake it off, pulling his phone out of his pocket and turning it on for the first time in days.

He winced when he saw all of the missed calls and texts from both his father and his mother, feeling a pang of guilt.

'Ada must be worried,' his mind whispered.

Without wasting another second, he quickly dialed his father's number, glancing the clock as his foot began to tap nervously.

He heard the other side pick up after a few rings, and he held his breath.

There was silence.

Then a shaky, "Legolas?"

"Ada," he breathed, placing a hand on his pounding heart. "I've--"

"Where are you?" Thranduil questioned, trying to be firm when he was really shaking with relief. 

"I'm home," Legolas paused, brow furrowing and he glanced at the clock again. Through bleary, sleep-deprived eyes, he read that it was around 1 AM. "Ada... Where are you?"

There was a pause.

Then, "I'm out...looking for you."

Legolas inhaled through his nose sharply, a sudden stab of fear, pain, and guilt piercing his soul.

"Adar, it's the middle of night and you're out in the city?! Do you know how dangerous that is?--"

"Why did you leave me?" Thranduil inquired suddenly, voice soft and full of grief. Normally, he would have more self control, would keep those dark questions safe in a box in the corner of his mind. But centuries of self-denial and discipline wouldn't have prepared him for the desire to know, to find out why his child abandoned him when he was only trying to give him the best life.

Legolas was quiet for a long while, biting his lip as he held back tears. Thranduil sounded so desolate and anguished, his heart couldn't take it. Then he softly said, "We'll talk about it later. It's so late, Adar. Please come home."

Thranduil was silent, the only sounds filling the air between them being those of the city.

"Please."

The author nodded slightly as he whispered a soft word of affirmation, ending the call hastily in hopes of shielding his already apparent and turmolous feelings.

As he began walking to his home, passing the darkened alleyways and shops, the flickering, electric street lights his only illumination in the night, he didn't see the fist that suddenly swung at him, the arms that held his already drained body in place as a group of men began beating him into the cold, hard pavement.

A familiar, burning pain began traveling against his skin in all directions, and the crimson blood that poured out of his lacerations froze with the air and snow around him.

He barely heard the laughing and the jeering of the men around him, he barely felt or registered the pain, as his mental and physical self had felt more pain than anything in the world could offer.

Thranduil didn't cry out.

•••••••

When Thranduil woke, he heard a high-pitched, rhythmic beeping. The sheets against his skin were flimsy and itchy; the limelight harsh to his sensitive eyes.

He kept them tightly shut for a minute.

Letting out a soft grunt, he found he could barely move his heavy, lead-like limbs. 

With a great amount of strength, he opened his eyes halfway.

Everything was blurry, and from the strange yet familiar shapes, he was only able to discern that he was in a hospital room.

"Ada..." a tearful voice whispered, sounding faint and echoed. 

Immediately, his soul was jerked awake, because it recognized that sweet and soft voice, but his body, sore and aching, demanded sleep.

"Just rest, Adar," Legolas beckoned, and soft fingertips touched his cheek lovingly.

Thranduil wanted to protest, wanted to say something, but he couldn't.

He couldn't even open his mouth.

So, with the ability to speak and move, there was only one thing he could.

Give into his body's desire.

••••••••

Legolas was sitting by Thranduil's bed, staring at the white sheets forlornly.

He had already counted Thranduil's bruises, studied the large gashes and cuts and scrapes that was littered on his pale skin.

He had been crying, sickened and saddened by the fact that his father was attacked, attacked while he was out relentlessly searching for his child.

'How could I be so stupid?' he wondered, desperately wishing he could turn back time and prevent all of it from happening.

Legolas took Thranduil's hand in his, pressing his lips to it.

As he glanced over Thranduil's injuries, his stomach turned, and he couldn't help but feel responsible, as if he had inflicted the blows and cuts upon the person he loved most dearly.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, eyes burning with tears. 

"I'm so sorry, Ada."

••••••••

(A month later, 18 years....)

When Thranduil followed his son on crutches into the penthouse, it was dark and lifeless when they returned. The frost in the rooms still bit their rosy skin sharply; the large paintings adorning the walls seeming dead and still to the world. 

Legolas was silent, had been silent ever since they had signed the papers releasing Thranduil from the hospital.

It strangely scared the older; in all of Legolas' life, never before had he been so quiet, being an extremely happy and lively person.

"Legolas?"

The teenager in question simply hummed inquiringly, continuing his advancements into the apartment until he was in the kitchen.

"Are you alright?" Thranduil asked, brow furrowing in confusion when his son just shrugged nonchalantly (but he was tense, Thranduil could tell), not turning to look at him.

Later that day, as Thranduil was checking his emails, he found one that caught his attention, informing him of Legolas' dismissal from the school in Canada.

Suddenly, and coincidentally, Legolas poked his head in Thranduil's room.

"I've, umm.." he paused, staring at his phone as he found he could not bear the look of disappointment on his father's face. "I've called the school and some other places, and I've transferred myself back to my old private school."

Thranduil found he couldn't discourage the child (after all, Legolas, being a legal adult, signed the papers to take care of Thranduil).

He nodded, clearing his throat.

"I'll begin having your mother send all of your possessions back at Canada."

There was something strange in his blue eyes, something Thranduil couldn't read. It looked as if he wanted to say something, but couldn't, so he nodded, and hastily left.

•••••••

(A week later, 18 years..)

Legolas would wake extremely early and cook all of their meals, putting the later ones into the fridge with a note simply telling the his father to heat it up.

Then, he'd disappear into his room with his rations, and keep himself locked up in there.

The author was confused, and a little hurt.

Of course, there'd be times when Legolas would periodically come out, quietly inquiring if Thranduil needed medicine or his bandages changed.

Then, after a word of affirmation or negation, the young blonde would disappear so quickly again.

Thranduil couldn't understand; they barely spoke or had any interaction despite his attempts to open his son's heart to him.

•••••••

Legolas quietly sat in his room, trembling.

He'd just thrown up his lunch, and even the thought of food sickened him.

He didn't understand why he kept trying to force himself to eat, it wasn't like he could keep anything down.

He had seen the way his father looked at him, with disappointment and well-concealed rage. 

He was sure it was only a matter of time before he was thrown out of his home again and justice was served to him.

Thranduil was starting to realize he didn't need Legolas, he just knew it.

It scared him.

And saddened him mostly.

Which was why he hid himself away, stayed out of his father's sight. He was sure Thranduil enjoyed not having to worry about his stupid son, was sure he reveled in the fact that Legolas wasn't around to be seen and cause trouble for anyone.

Legolas quietly stepped past the broken, shattered pieces of the mirror on his floor (after returning, he discovered he couldn't look at himself out of shame and self-hatred, and proceeded to break all of the reflective surfaces in his bedroom), and knelt over the white, pristine toilet when he felt his stomach begin to churn.

He saw himself in the clear water.

And he began vomiting again.

•••••••

(Two weeks later, 18 years...)

Legolas hadn't looked him straight in the eye.

That was another thing.

He always avoided Thranduil's eyes, not looking straight at his face.

Thranduil had looked in the mirror, and he had to admit, his injuries were revolting and disgusting, only adding to his disfigured face and body.

It hurt, knowing that he probably repelled his only child to the point of the younger not wanting to look at him any longer.

Heartbrokenly, he wondered if he, both in body and soul, had become too scarred and mangled for love.

•••••••••

(March, 18 years...)

Over the month, Thranduil had healed quickly (Elven traits contained the ability) and soon, he was up walking again, much to the doctors' and nurses' confusion.

The author, at the moment, was sitting on the couch in front of the TV, quietly and secretly watching Legolas from across the room, observing his child stare at the wall.

Legolas' behavior only became more and more worrying, his uncharacteristic silence and solemnity disturbing the author's fëa greatly. Thranduil wished he knew what was bothering the younger, wished he could get answers other than a soft-spoken lie from his love's lips.

'Perhaps he desires to be alone for a period of time,' his mind suggested, and Thranduil sighed.

He didn't want to be away from his son, even if it seemed that way would enlighten the latter's mood.

"Legolas," Thranduil called after a few moments of contemplation.

The younger turned his head a bit in Thranduil's direction, conveying the fact that he was listening.

"I'm going to.." Thranduil paused, standing from the couch on his still weak legs. "...go to the grocery."

Legolas stood up. "You shouldn't go. I'll do it."

He wasn't looking at him, instead directing his gaze to the floor.

'The floorboards are probably more appealing than myself,' Thranduil thought with a tinge of bitterness, before he shook himself of those thoughts and cleared his throat.

"No. I'm going alone."

"That's not a good idea," Legolas said quietly, a waver of fear in his voice.

"I'll be fine, iôn-nín," he said, walking to the door and pulling his coat off the rack. 

With his shoes and thick, dark coat on, Thranduils fingertips made contact with the silver doorknob, and he paused. 

He waited anxiously for even a word of farewell, as he could still feel Legolas staring at him.

However, none came.

And with a heavy heart, Thranduil left his home and love behind.

••••••

When Thranduil left, Legolas immediately took action, standing up and bolting to his room.

He knew he didn't have long.

The guilt was unbearable, starting to suffocate him. The past few days found him forcing himself to vomit whatever he consumed, convincing himself he wasn't deserving of anything to keep himself alive.

Whenever he saw Thranduil, he saw his mistakes, his fault, and he wanted...

No, he needed to leave.

Hastily and messily, he began shoving most of his clothes into a few duffel bags he hid under his bed, throwing all of his money and a few other possessions into them.

He had to work fast; if he paused for even a moment, he was afraid he'd falter, abandon his plan to finally cut himself and his father free of the heartache they kept causing one another.

As he emptied his top drawer, searching for his watch through the mismatching socks and other miscellaneous items, he took hold of something.

He knew he should have let it go, shut the drawer and never think about it again until he was far, far away, but his first instinct was to pull the item out and look at it.

First mistake.

What he saw made his heart stop.

It was a small note, encased in a small square of glass and kept in mint condition. 

It was from Legolas' childhood, a time when he was 5 years old, and had an extremely out-of-control fight with his father that ended up with himself screaming that he hated Thranduil before running away.

His father had found him in the park beside their house an hour later.

*****

Legolas sat quietly on the swings, tears rolling down his round cheeks and hands balled into tiny fists in his lap.

The momentary hate in his heart kept him warm, kept him angry.

Thranduil was just like his mother.

He was sure he didn't love him.

He could hear his father draw near, could sense his presence from a mile away.

"Go away," he whispered. He had made up his mind to never step foot in his home again, never apologize for screaming at Thranduil.

The older didn't respond, he simply advanced until he was beside his child.

Neither looked at one another.

"Come back with me," Thranduil said softly, voice rough with tears.

The five year old never heard his father so broken, had always seen him as someone who never cried.

Legolas nearly began sobbing; his father clearly wanted him back and was trying to protect him.

But it made no sense, because in Legolas' little mind, Thranduil didn't love him.

So he didn't say anything.

He just stared into the distance where the city was all white with snow, and foggy with the clouds.

Quietly, he wished he could disappear.

Thranduil tapped him, and Legolas looked at the envelope proffered by the older, staring at it momentarily before taking it.

Without looking at the author, his small, shivering hands opened it, and pulled out a simple, green sticky note.

Even with Legolas' meager teaching in letters and formation of words and whatnot, he recognized the words, because Thranduil said it to him every day, wrote it at the end of each letter he left Legolas each week.

'I don't want to lose you,' was all it said.

It was enough to make Legolas burst into tears and throw himself at his father, who immediately caught him. It was enough to make him apologize, and beg to be taken home again.

*****

Legolas stared at it.

'I don't want to lose you.'

Quietly, he stuffed it back into the depths of his drawer. A tear rolled down his cheek, as he pictured the memory in his head once more, how small he looked in his father's arms and how much he didn't want to let go but eventually had to, and he whispered with a bitter smile,

"You haven't lost me, but I've lost you." 

•••••••

When Thranduil returned, the sight waiting for him was the last thing he wanted to see.

The bags carrying the multiple ingredients and components of Legolas' favorite dishes dropped from his hands, the blood rushing from his face and leaving him dizzy and sick and pale.

A few duffel bags, completely full of clothes and other various items, sat innocently in the middle of the living room.

The owner of the bags rounded the corner quickly on the opposite side of where Thranduil stood, looking absorbed in his current occupation of readying for his impending trip.

Legolas, after bending down to pick up his heavy bags, stood, glancing over the room quickly before turning on his heel.

The color from his face disappeared when he saw his father standing at the door, eyes wide and trembling.

Both didn't say a thing, only staring at each other. The pain in their eyes was more than any humans had ever felt in their short lives, the hurt in their souls burning them from the inside out.

One didn't want to leave, and the other didn't want to be left behind.

"Adar.." Legolas cleared his throat, looking away for a moment.

"You're leaving." It wasn't a question. More rather, it was a statement.

"Yes." Legolas bit his lip, glancing at Thranduil once more. He couldn't bear the anguish shown so obviously on his father's face, so he looked away once more.

"You...you cannot..."

Legolas shifted the strap across his shoulder. "I have to."

Thranduil knew why (or he thought he did), so it made no sense at all when he suddenly, impulsively asked, "Why?"

"Well..." Legolas paused, rubbing his arm as he tried to gather his thoughts. "I.. You're better. In health, at least. But I can see that..."

Legolas looked at him, and when he continued, his voice was soft. "You're soul is hurting... And I'm leaving so you can..."

'Fix yourself? Find your way to happiness again?' Legolas didn't know.

He was obviously lying, the author could tell. The way his eyes darted around the room, how his lips was caught between his teeth and his fingers tapping against his thigh conveyed the deceit in the teenager's words.

Thranduil stared, countenance calm yet he was heartbroken, mind knowing the outcome of the situation yet his heart raced and panicked as it tried to find something to make his son stay. "You can't leave on my account," he said finally, keeping his voice as steady as it could be. "If you are to leave, you must do so for your benefit, iôn-nín."

Legolas glared. "I can."

"You cannot." The author tried not to glower at his son.

"Adar, you cannot change my mind," he demanded resolutely, jaw clenching as he took a step toward the door.

The move made Thranduil freeze, reminded him of the situation he was in. His heart melted again into sadness and desolation, and his fingernails dug into his palms. 

"I know that isn't the reason," Thranduil stated stubbornly, determined to find the truth. "Tell me."

"It is the truth," Legolas lied.

Again.

"It isn't!" Thranduil burst, suddenly angry. He was sick of being shunned out by his own child, shunned out of his darling's heart and left in the cold when he only tried to love him. 

"Fine!" Legolas spat, looking at Thranduil in the eye for the first time in what felt like eternity. There were tears in his large blue eyes, shining and threatening to fall. "I'm leaving because I can't stand this!"

Thranduil felt as if the earth was pulled from under his feet, as if he was suddenly plunged underwater and he was drowning.

Legolas stared, liquid bubbling over his eyes and he sniffed.

"I can't stand this," he repeated, words that were once strong and angry now trembling and full of grief. "I see you.. I see those injuries on your body and I can't help but--"

Legolas' voice choked with emotion suddenly, and he held onto the strap of his bag tightly as he tried to steady himself. "I can't help but look at you, and see that... All of those wounds...those injuries... They're from me."

Thranduil wanted to stop his child there, tell him that he was wrong and his judgement was clouded with all of his bottled-up emotions, but his love began talking faster, voice becoming more broken and tearful as he continued. 

"It might as well have been me wielding the knife against you, or beating you within an inch of your life." Legolas swallowed, swiping the back of his hand against his eyes. "I can't look at myself in the mirror anymore, Adar. I'm so...disgusted with myself. I hate myself so much."

"Don't say that," Thranduil whispered, voice wavering as his heart broke a thousand times over. "You know you're not responsible for what happened to me, and even if you were I wouldn't blame you. Don't--"

"I hate myself," Legolas cried, hands flying to his face to try to wipe the tears pouring down his face. After all of the years, Thranduil found he still couldn't bear the sight of his love so broken and anguished, and he rushed forward in hopes of gathering the boy in his arms.

But Legolas lifted his hand, stopping Thranduil so suddenly he nearly slipped on the smooth floors. The younger bit his lip and wiped the liquid from his eyes in vain.

"You can't change my mind," Legolas said, holding back his sobs. "I blame myself, and I...I know this is my fault."

"That's not--" Thranduil began, voice raising slightly in octave because of his desperation, but was immediately cut off by his son.

"It is!" Legolas yelled, shocking his father slightly by his sudden change in behavior. His face turned red in his outburst, and his chest was rising and falling rapidly.

Legolas suddenly shifted into the crying and grieving boy again, and he inhaled sharply, tears making their way down his pale cheeks.

"'Las-nín.."

Legolas looked around the room in an almost frantic manner. "I have to leave. I-I can't--I'm not-"

"Please stay," Thranduil pleaded hopelessly, eyes filling with tears. 

"I can't," Legolas replied just as forlornly, staring at Thranduil through his tears for a moment before he was overtaken with intense grief once more, and he began sobbing. "I-I'm not even worthy of standing in the same room as you."

Thranduil swallowed a sob. It seemed as if he was frozen in place, helpless and unable to run and soothe his distraught child.

He nearly choked when Legolas began advancing, wiping his eyes as he cried and made his way past Thranduil to the door.

The wind that slipped through the now ajar door chilled him to his bone, filled his empty soul with more sorrow and pain.

If Legolas hadn't hesitated before stepping out, Thranduil was sure he would have died from grief and torment the very same moment. 

The torture was nearly unbearable, swallowing his heart into a dark pit from which it would seldom come out of, and nearly making speech impossible. But he had to ask, no matter how much pain the question would bring.

"Will you say goodbye to me this time?" He whispered so quietly he almost couldn't hear himself. "Or are you just leaving me again?"

It seemed as if his words completely made his child fall apart, because he spun so quickly he had to be dizzy, and he crashed into Thranduil, embracing him so violently and tightly the older could barely breathe.

"I'm sorry," Legolas apologized repeatedly through his sobs as he clung tightly onto the author for what had to be the last time. 

For the first time, Thranduil couldn't hear his child's words, or his cries and sobs. He couldn't feel Legolas' lips as they pressed frantically against Thranduil's face in apology.

Because one thought burned his mind, blinded him with its horrid arrival, deafened him with its white roar of static, and left him crippled with an aching, and growing pain:

Legolas was leaving him.

And there was nothing he could do to stop him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't thank any of you enough for all of the support and comments I've gotten on this fiction! Your support really meant the world to me and kept me writing! Thank you thank you thank you so so so much!!! <3
> 
> Also, let me know if you guys would like to see a sequel, as I kind of have a lot of ideas for another part of this story (basically, my heart refuses to end it like this...stupid heart).  
> So let me know if you want a sequel, and I'll get started on that!!!  
> Thank you!!!! ❤️


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